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To a pure conscience there is no hell eveu
in hell, and to a bad heart no heaven in
heaven. I am very happy.
Whoever knows how to endure privation
is rich. A good conscience is better than
that which the wotld names honor. As
soon a3 we are able to look with indiffer
ence upon what people call honor and
shame, then do we become truly worthy of
honor. He who can despise the world, en
joys heaven. 1 understand the gospel bet
ter every day, since I have learned to read
it by the light of experience. The scholars
at Oxford and Cambridge study the letter,
not the spirit. Nalute is the best interpre
ter of the Scriptures.
With these reflections I conclude the
year.
I am triad tint I have now for some time
perseveieu in keeping this journal. Every
body should keep one. ue may learn
more from himself than from the wisest
books. When, by daily setting down our
thoughts and feelings, we in a manner por
tray ourselves, we can see at the end of the
year how many different faces we have.—
Man is not always like himself. He who
says he knows himself, can answer for the
truth of what he says only at that moment.
Few know what they were yesterday; still
fewer what they will be to morrow.
A day-book is useful also, because it helps
us to grow iu faith in God and Providence.
The whole history of the world does not
pears to be much moved. With me, it is
as if I entered upon the New Year, in the
midst of miracles, and—it may be supersti
tion, or it may be not—as if the litte child
were sent to be our guardian angel in our
need. I cannot express the feelings of
peace, the still happiness which I have.
Same day. Eve.—I came home greatly
exhausted and weary with the sacred labors
of the day. I had a long and rugged walk.
But I was inspirited by a happy return
home, by the cheerfulness of my daughters,
by our pleasant little parlour. The table
was ready laid for me, and on it stood a
flask of wine, a New Year’s present from an
unknown benevolent hand.
The looks of the lovely little child in
Jenny’s arms refreshed me above allthimgs.
Polly showed me the beautiful little bed of
our nursling, the dozen fine napkins, the
dear little caps and night-clothes, which
were in the box, and then a sealed packet
of money directed to me, which they had
found at the feet of the child when it awoke,
and they took it out.
Anxious to learn something of the paren\
tage of our little unknown inmate, I opened
the packet. It contained a roll of twenty
guineas, and a letter, as follows:
“ Relying with entire confidence upon »he
piety and humanity of your reverence, the unhap
py parents of this dear child commend it to your
care. Do not forsake it. We will testify our
gratitude when »e are at liberty to make our
selves known toyou. Although at a distance, we
teach us so much about these things as the ! shall keep a careful watch, and know every thing
thoughts, judgments, and feelings of a sin
gle individual for a twelve mouth.
I have also had this yeaT new confirmation
of the truth of the old saying, “ Misfortunes
seldom come singly, but the daikest hour
is just before morning.” When thimgs go
hard with me, then I am most at my ease,
always excepting the first shock, for then
I please myself with the prospect of the re
lief which is sure to succeed and 1 smile be
cause nothing can disturb me. On the oth
er hand, when every thing goes according
that you do. The dear boy is name Alfred—
He has been baptized. His board for the first
quarter accompanies this. The same sum will
be punctually remitted to you every three
months. Take the child, We commend him
to the tenderness of your daughter Jenny.”
When I had read the letter, Polly leaped with
joy, and cried. “ There’s the bishop’s mitre!”
Bountiful heaven ! how rich had we suddenly
become. We read the letter a dozen times.—
We did not trust our e-yes to look at the gold
upon the table. What a New Year’s present !
From my heaviest cares for the future was I thus
suddenly relieved. Butin what a strange and
to my wishes, I am timid and anxious, and j m y Stei jous way! In vain did 1 think over all
cannot give myself up freely to joy. I dis
trust the continuance of my peace. Those
are the hardest misfortunes, which we allow
to take us by surprise. It is likewise true
that trouble looks more terrible in the dis
tance than when it is upon us. Clouds are
never so black when near as they seem in
the distance.
I have learnt from all my calamities to
consider, with the quickness of lightning,
what will be their worst effect upon me.—
So I prepare rnyselffor the worst, and it sel
dom comes.
This also I find'^ood—I sometimes play
with my hopes but I never let my hopes
play with me. So I keep them in check.
I have only to remember how rarely for
tune has been favorable to me ; then all air
castles vanish as if they were ashamed to
appear before me. Alas for him who is
the sport of his hopes ! He pursues vvill-o’
the wisps into bogs and mire.
New Year's Day, 1765. A. M.—A won
derful and sad affair opens the year. Hete
follows its history.
Early, about six o’clock, as I lay in bed
thinking over my sermon, I heard a knock
ing at the front door. Polly’was up and in
the kitchen. She ran to open the door and
see who was there. Such early visits are
not usual with us. A stranger presented
himself with a large box, which he handed
to Polly with these words : “ Mr. ”
(Polly lost the name) “ sends this box to
the Rev. Vicar, and requests him to be very
careful of the contents,”
Polly took the. box with joyful surprise.
The man disappeared. Polly tapped light
ly at my chamber door to see whether I was
awake. I answered, and she came in, and
wishing me “ a happy new year,” as well
as *• good morning,” added laughing,
you will see now, dear father,’whether
Polly’s dreams are not prophetic. The
promised bishop’s mitre is come !” Aod
then she told me how a New Year’s pres
ent had been given her for me. It vexed
me, that she had not asked more particu
larly for the name of rn-y unknoivu patron
or benefactor.
While she went out to light a lamp and
call Jenny, I dressed myself. I cannot
deny that I was burning with curiosity.—
For hitherto the New Year’s presents for
the vicar of C had been as insignificant
as they were rare. I suspected that my
patron, the farmer, whose good will I ap
peared to have won, had meant to surprise
me with a box of cake, and 1 admired bis
modesty in sending me the present before
it was light. j
When I entered the parlour, Polly and I
Jenny were standing at the table on which I
lay the box directed to me, carefully seal
ed, and of an unusual size. I had never
seen exactly such a box before. I lifted it,
and found it pretty heavy. In the top were
two smoothly cut round holes.
With Jennny*s help, I opened the box
very cautiously, as I had been directed to
the people I knew, in order to discover who it
might be who had been forced by birth or rank
to conceal the existence of their child, or who
were able to make such a liberal compensation
for a ample service of Christian charity. I task
ed my recollection, but I could think of no one.
And yet it was evident that these parents were
•veil acquainted with me and mine.
Wonderful are the ways of Providence !
Jan. 2.—Fortune is heaping her favors upon
me. This morning I again received s packet of
money, ££12, bv the post, with a letter from Mr.
Fleetinan. It is too much. For a shilling he
j returns me a pound. Things must have gone
j well with him. He says as much. I caDnot,
alas, thunk him, for he has forgotten to mention
j his address. God forbid I should be putted up
j with my present riches. I hope now in time to
j pay off honestly my bond to Mr. Withell.
j When 1 told my daughters that I had receiv-
j ed a letter from Mr. -Fleetinan, there was a new
I occasion for joy. I do not exactly understand
I what the girls have to do with Mr. Fleetman.
! Jenny grew very red, and Polly.jumped up laugh-
I ingly, aod held up both her hands before Jenny's
i face, and Jenny behaved as if she was right
1 vexed with the playful girl.
1 read out Fleetman’s letter. But I could
scarcely do it. for theyoung man is an-enthusiasr.
He writes many flattering things which I do not
deseive. He exaggerates every thing, even in
deed when he speaks of the good Jenny. I pit
ied the poor girl while I read. 1 did not dare
to look at her. The passage, however, which
relates to her, is worthy of note. It runs thus :
“ When, excellent sir, I went from your door,
I felt as if I were quitting a father’s toof for the
bleak world. 1 shall never forget you, never
forget how happy I was with you. I see you
now before me, in your rich poverty, in your
Christian humility, in your patriarchal simplici
ty. And the lovely, fascinating Polly ; and the
—ah ! for your Jennv I have no words ! In
what words shall one describethe heavenly love
liness by which everything earthly is transfigur
ed ? For ever shall 1 remember the moment
when she gave me the twelve-shilhngs, and the
gentle tone of consolation with which she spoke
to me. Wonder not that J have the twelve
shillings still. 1 would not part with them for
a thousand guineas, I shall soon perhaps ex
plain every thing to you personally. Never in
my life have I been so happy or so miserable as
I am now. Commend me to your sweet daugh
ters, if they still beat me in remembrance.”
I conclude from these lines that he intends to
come this way again. The prospect gives me
pleasure. In his unbounded gratitude, the
young man lias perhaps sent me‘his all, because
I once lent him the half of my ready money.—
That grieves me. He seems to he a thoughtless
youth, though ha has an honest heart.
We have great delight in the little Alfred.—
The little tiling laughed to-day upon Polly, as
Jenny was holding’bim, like a young mother, in
her arms. The girls are mare handy with the
little citizen of the world that I had anticipated.
But he is a beautiful child. We have bought
him a handsome cradle, and provided abundant
ly for all his little wants. The cradle stands
at Jenny’s bedside. She watches day and night,
like a guardian spirit, over her tender charge.
Jan. 3.—To day Mr. Curate Thompson ar
rived with his young wife, and sent forme. I
went to him iinurediately at rite inn : he is an
agreeable man and very polite. He inform
ed me that he was appointed my successor in
office, that he wished, if I had no objections, to
enter immediately upon his duties, and that I
might occupy the parsonage until Easter: he
Jaw 8.—My farewell sermon was accompani
ed with the tears of most of my hearers. 1 see
now at last that my parishioners love me- They
have expressed their obligations on all hands and
loaded me with gifts. 1 never before had such
an abundance of provisions iu the house, so
many dainties of all kinds, and so much wine.—
A hundreth part of my present plenty would
have made me account myself over fortuuate io
past days. We are really swimming in plenty.
But a goodly portion has already been disposed
of. I know some poor families in C e, and
Jenny knows even more than 1. The dear peo
ple share in our pleasures.
I was moved to the inmost by my sermon.—
With tears had 1 written it. It was a sketch of
mv whole past course from my call and setle-
ment. I am driven from the vineyard as an un
profitable servant, and yet I have not labored as
a hireling. Many noble vines have I planted,
many deadly weeds cut away. I am driven from
the vineyard where I have watched, and taught,
and warned, and comforted and prayed. I have
shrunk from no sick bed. I have stiengthened
the dying for the last conflict with holy hope.—
I have gone after sinners. I have not left the
poor desolate. I have called back the lost to
the way of life. Ah ! all these souls that were
knit to my soul, are torn from me—why should
not my heart bleed ? But God’s will be done !
Gladly would I now offer to take charge of
the parish without salary, but my successor has
the office. I have been used to poverty from
my birth, and care has never forsaken me since
I stepped out of my boy’s shoes. I have
enough for myself and daughters in little Al
fred’s board. We shall be able indeed to lay up
something. I would never again complain ol
wind and weather beating agaiust iny gray hairs,
could I only continue to break the bread of life
to my flock.
Be it so! I will not murmur. The tear
which drops upon this page, is no tear of dis
content. 1 ask not for riches and good days,
nor have I ever asked. But, Lord ! Lord !
drive not thy servant for ever from thy service,
t although his powers are small. Let me again
i enter thy vineyard, and with thy blessing win
souls.
Jan. 13.—My journey to Trowbridge has
turned out beyond all expectation. I arrived
late with weary feet at the pleasant little old city,
and could not rouse myself from sleep until late
the next morning. After I had put on my
clean clothes (1 had Dot been so finely dressed
since my wedding-day—the good Jenny shows a
daughter’s care for her father,) I left the inn and
went to Mr. Withell’s. He lives in a splendid,
great house.
He received me somewhat coldly at first; but
when 1 mentioned my name, he led me into his
little office. Here I thanked him for his great
goodness and consideration, told him how I had
happened to give tbe bond, and what hard lor-
tunes had hitherto been mine. I then laid my
twelve pounds upon the table.
M. Withell looked at me for a while in silence,
with a smile, aud with some emotion. He then
extended his hand, and sliouk mine, and said,
“ I know all about you. I have informed my
self particularly about your circumstances.—
You are an honest man. Take your twelve
pounds back. I cannot find it in my heart to
rob you of your New Year's present. Rather
let me add a pound to it, to remember me by,”
He arose, brought a paper from another room,
opened it, and said, “You know this bond and
your signature ? I give it to you and your chil
dren.” He tore the paper in two, and placed it
in my hand.
I could find no words, I was too deeply mov
ed. My eyes filled. He saw that I would thank
him, but could not, and he said, “Hush! hush!
not a syllable, I pray you. This is the only
thanks I desire of you. I would gladly have
forgiven poor Brook the debt, had he only dealt
frankly with me.”
I don’t know a more noble-hearted man than
Mr. Withell. He was too kind. He would
who died early. My sister has suffered most
front the tyranny of her uncle, who was her guar
dian, and who bad destined her for the son of an
intimate and powerful friend of his. But my
sister, on the other hand, was secretly contracted
to the young Lord Sandom, whose father, then
living, was opposed to their marriage. Without
the knowledge either of my uncle or tbe old lord,
they were secretly married. The little Alfred
is their son My sister, under the pretence of
benefitting her health, and availing herself of
sea-bathing, left the house of her guardian, and
put herseif under my protection. When the
child was born, our great concern was to find a
place for it where it would have tbe tenderest
care. I accidentally heard a touching account
of the poverty and humanity of the parish minis
ter of C , aud I came hither to satisfy myself.
The manner in which I was treated by you deci
ded me.
“ I have forgotten to mention that my sister
never returned to her guardian. For about six
months ago I won the suit agaiust him, aod en
tered into possession of my patrimony. My uu-
cle instituted a new suit against me for withdraw
ing my sister from his charge; but the old Lord
The President and Ithnde Island. j voluntary enlistments made iu neighboring
I In the House of Representatives on Wednes- States. The executive could with difficulty
! day the Speaker laid before that body the follow- ■ bring itself to realize the fact that the citizens
: ing message from the President of the United ; of other States had forgotten their duty to tbem-
States, in answer to a resolution calling for cer- selves aud the Constitution of the United
taiD information touebing the course.of the Ex- j States, and entered into the highly reprehensi-
ecutive during the late troubles in the State of | M e a °d indefenstye course of interfering so far
~ _ ' io the concerns of a sister State as to have enter
ed into plans of Invasion, conquest, and revolu-
Rhode Island.
To the House of Representatives:
In compliance with a resolution of tbe House
tion : but the Executive felt it to be his uutv to
look minutely into the matter, and therefore the
HENRY ClAT AND MARTIN Van Bdr Et
Martin Van Buren and Henry Clay are the
ing oracles of two faiths. The diversity 0 f .u”'
characters establishes the difference of relat' 1 '
between tbe two parties, and can demon-t
the greater or less degree of evil t 0 be ap^ !e
hended from the permanent establishment
either. 1 of
The want of fixed prisciple that distinguish
lore than any other man, Martin Van Bum ^
- - - - - ur “D, jtj
lawwpwM.ausMiwiiww nuua* looK minuteij‘into me maner, and theretore the iWlt h him rather a taste than necessity
of Representatives of 23d March last, request- . Secretary of War was despatched to Rhode Is- m j 2 ht have been honest »d fortuna^
ing the President to lay before the House- I |„ n d with instructions, a copy of which are here- I and successful; respected truth and" nro^ 1
“The authority and true copies of all requests | with transmitted, and was authorized, should a j By inclination he has dissembled frn jr* 1
s 'ncer t
and applications upon which he deemed it bis
duty to interfere with the naval and military for
ces of tbe United States, on the occasion of the
recent attempt of the people of Rhode Island to
establish a free Constitution in place of the old
Charter Government of that State ; also, copies
’ of the instructions to ant! statements of the
| Charter Commissioners sent to him by the then
I existing authorities of the State of Rhode Is :
j land ; also, copies of the correspondence between
the Executive of the United States and the Char
ter Government of the State of Rhode Island,
Sandom died suddenly a few days ago of apo- i and all the papers and documents connected with
plexy, and my brother-in-law has made bis mar
riage public. So that the suit falls to the ground,
and alt cause for keeping the child's birth secret
is removed. Its parents have now come with
me to take the child nwny, and I have come to
take away you and your family, if the proposal
I make you shall be accepted.
“ During tbe lawsuit in which I have been en
gaged, the living, which is in the gift of my fami
ly, has remained unoccupied. 1 have at my dis
posal this situation, which yields over two hun
dred pounds per annum. You, sir, have lost
your place. I shall not be happy unless you
come and reside near me and accept this living.”
God only knows how I was affected at these
words. My eyes were blinded with tears of joy.
I stretched out my hands to the man who cams'
a messenger from heaven. I fell upon his breast.
Polly threw her arms around him with a cry of
delight. Jenny thankfully kissed the baronet’s
hand. But he snatched it from her with visible
agitation and left us.
My happy children were still holding me in
their embraces, and we were still mingling our
congratulations, when the baronet returned,
bringing his brotber-in-law, Lord SaDdom, with
his wife. The latter was an uncommonly beau
tiful young lady. Without saluting us, she rau
to the cradle of her child. She knelt down over
the little Alfred, kissed his cheeks and wept freely
with mingled pain and delight. Her lord raistd
her up, and had much trouble in composing her
When she had recovered her composure and
apologized to us all for her behavior, she thank
ed first me and then Polly, in the most touching
terms. Polly disowned ail obligation,and point
ed to Jenny, who had withdrawn to ibe window
and said, “ My sister there has been its mother!”
Lady Sandom approached Jenny, gazed at her
long in silence and with evidently delighted sur
prise, and then glanced at her brother with •
smile, and folded Jenny in her arms. The deal
Jenny, in her modesty, scarcely dared to look
up. “ I ain your debtor,” said my lady, “but
the service you have rendered to a wiotber’s
heart it is impossible for me to repay. Become
a sister to me, lovely Jenny ; sisters esn have no
obligations between them.” As they embraced
each other, tbe baronet approached. “There
stands my poor brother,” said my lady ; “ as
you are now my sister, he may stand Mam to
your heart, dear Jenny, may he not?”
Jenny blushed and said, “ He is my fe-tber’s
benefactor.”
“Will you not be,” replied the lady, “the
benefactress of my poor brother ? Look kindly
on him. If you only knew how he loves yarn!”
The baronet took Jenny’s hand and kissed it,
and said, as JenDy struggled to withdraw it.—
“ Miss, will you be unkind tome? I am un
happy without this hand.” Jenny, much dis
turbed, let her hand remain in his. The baronet
the same; also, copies of the correspondence,
if any, between the heads of Departments and
said charter Government, or any person or per
sons connected with the said Government, and
of any accompanying papers and documents ; al
so, copies of all orders issued by the Executive
of the United States, or any of the Departments
to Military officers for the movement or employ
ment of troops to or in Rhode Island ; also, cop-
requisition be made upon the Executive by the
government of Rhode Island, in pursuance of
iaw, and the invaders should not abandon their
purpose, to call upon the governors of Massa
chusetts and Connecticut for a sufficient num
ber ol tnilitia at once to crush the invasion, and
to inteipose such of the regular Troops as
could be spared from Fort Adams for the defence
of the city of Providence, in the event of its be
ing attacked, as was strongly represented to be
in contemplation. Happily, there was no neces
sity for either issuing the proclamation or requi
sition, or for removing the troops from Fort
Adams, where they had been properly stationed.
C'hepachet was evacuated, and Mr. Dorr’s tioops
dispersed, without the necessity of the interpo
sition of any military force by this Government;
thus confirming.me iu my early impressions that
nothing more had been designed from the first,
by those associated with Mr. Dorr, than to ex
cite fear and apprehension, and thereby to ob
tain concessions from the constituted authorities
ies of all orders to naval officers to prepare steam I which might be claimed as a triumph over the
have me relate to him much of my past history, j then led my daughter to me, and begged me for
He introduced me to his wife, and to the young j
gentleman his son. He had my little bundle, |
my blessing.
‘Jenny.” said I,
1 it depends upon thee. Do
containing my old clothes, brought from the inn, | we dream? G'anst thou love him? Di> thou
and kept me at his house. The entertainment ’
was princely. The chamber in which I slept,
the carpet, the bed, were so splendid and costly
that l hardly dared to make use of them.
The next day Mr. Withell sent ine home in
his own elegant carriage. I parted with my
benefactor with a heart deeply moved. My chil- j
dren wept with me for joy when I showed them j
the bond. “See,” said I, “ this light piece of j
paper was the heaviest burthen of iny life, and j
now it is generously cancelled. Pray for the ’
life and prosperity of our deliverer!”
1 Jan. 1G.—Yesterday was the most remarkable ;
I day of my life- We were sitting together in the
i forenoon ; I was rocking the cradle, Polly was !
i reading aloud, and Jenny was seated at the win- |
dow, with her needle, when she suddenly jumped
up, and then fell back again deadly pale into her i runted,
chair. We were all alarmed, and cried, “ What j
is the matter?” She forced a smile, and said,
“ He is coming!
handle the contents •carefully. A fine | WO uld in the meanwhile take up his abode
white cloth was remove*!, and lo ! hut
no, our astonishment is indescribable. We
all exclaimed with one voice, “ Good
God !”
There lay a little child asleep, some six or
eight weeks old, dressed in the finest linen,
with rose-coloured ribands. Its head rest
ed upon a soft blue silk cushion, and it was
well wrapt up in a blanket. The covering,
as well as the little cap, was trimmed with
the costliest Brabant face.
We stood some moments gazing at it
with silent wonder. At last Polly broke
out into a comical laugh, and cried,“ What
shall we do with it ? This is no bishop’s
mitre !” Jenny timidly touched the cheek
of the sleeping babe with the point of her
finger, and in a tone full of pity, said, “ Poor,
dear little creature ! thou hast no mother, or
might as well have no mother ! Great God !
to cast off such a lovely, helpless being!
Only see, father, only see, Polly, how
peacefully and trustfully it sleeps, uncon
scious of its fate, as if it knew that it was
lying in God’s hand. Sleep on, thou poor,
forsaken one ! Thy parents are perhaps too
high in rank to care for thee, and too happy
to permit thee to disturb their happiness.
Sleep on,we will not cast thee out. They
have brought thee to the right place. I will
be thy mother.”
As Jenny was epeaking two large tears
fell from her eyes. X caught the pious,
gentle-hearted creature to my breast and
said, “ Be a mother to this little one ! The
stepchildren of fortune come to her step
children. God tries our faith—no, he does
not try it, he knows it. Therefore is this
forsaken little creature brought to us.—
We do not indeed know bow we shall sub
sist from one day to another, but he knows,
who has appointed us to be parents to this
orphan.”
Thus the matter was soon settled. The
child continued to sleep sweetly on. In
the mean while, we exhausted our
selves in conjectures about its parents, who
were undoubtedly known to us, as the box
was directed to me. Polly, alas ! could
tell us nothing more of the person who
brought it than she bad already told.—
Now, while the little thing sleeps, and I run
over my New Year’s sermon upon “ the
power of the Eternal Providence,* my
daughters are holding a council about the
pursing of the poor stranger. Polly exhib
its all the delight of a child. Jenny ap-
lodgings prepared for him at Alderman’s Field-
son’s.
I replied that, if he pleased, I would resign
my office to him immediately, as I should thus
be more at liberty to look out for another situa
tion. I desired only permission to preach a
farewell sermon in the churches in which I had
for so many years declared the word of the
Lord.
He then said that he would come in the after
noon to examine the state of the parsonage.
He has been here with his wife and Alderman
Fieldson. H is lady was somewhat haughty
and appears to be of high birth, fot there was
nothing in the house that pleased her, and she
hardly deigned to look at my daughters. When
she saw the little Alfred in the cradle, she
turned to Jenny and asked, whether she were
already married. The good Jenny blushed up
to her-hair, and shook her little head by way of
negative, and stammered out something. I had
to come to the poor girl’s assistance. My lady
listened to my story with great curiosity, and
drew up her mouth, and shrugged her shoulders.
It was very disagreeable, but I said nothing. I
invited them to take a cup of lea. But they
declined. Mr. Curate appeared to be very obe
dient to the slightest hint of the lady.
We were very glad when thevisit was over.—
Jan. 6.—Mr. Withell is an excellent man, to
judge from his letter. He sympathizes with me
in regard to my unfortunate bond, and comforts
me with the assurance that I must not disquiet
myself rf 1 am not able to pay it for ten years or
ever. He appears to be well acquainted with
my circumstances, for he alludes to them very
cautiously. He considers me an honest man.—
That gratifies me most. He shall not find his
confidence misplaced. I will go to Trowbridge
as soon as I can, and p3y Mr. Whithell Fleet-
man's twelve pounds sterling, 4s an instalment
of my monstrous debt.
Although Jenny insists ihatshe sleeps so sonnd-
ly, that little Alfred is very quiet o'nights, and
only wakes once, when she gives him a drink
out of his little bottle, yet I feel anxious about
the maiden. She is not so lively by far as for-
melry, although she seems to be much happier
thae when we were every day troubled about our
daily bread. Sometimes she sits with her nee
dle, lost iu a reverie, dreaming with open eyes ;
or her hands, once so active, lie sunk upou her
lap. When she is spoken to, she starts, and
has to bethink herself what was said. All this
evidently comes from the interruption of her
proper rest. But she will not hear a word of it.
We cannot even persuade her to take a little
nap in the day time. She declares that she feels
perfectly well.
I bad no idea that she had so much vanity.—
Fleetman’s praises have not displeased her.—
She has asked me for his letter, to read once
more. And she has not returned it to me, but
keeps k in her work-basket!
I don’t care, for my part! the vain thing! f
decide.
She then turned to the baronet, who stood be
fore her, deeply agitated, and cast upon him a
full penetrating look, and then took his hand in
both hers, pressed it to her breast, looked up to
heaven, and softly whispered, “God basdeciided.”
I blessed my son and daughter. They em
braced. There was a solemn silence. Aid eyes
were wet.
Suddenly Polly sprang up, laughing through
her tears, and flung herself upon my neck, while
she cried, “There! we have it? The New-
Year’s present ? Bishop’s mitres upon bis hop’t
mines!”
Little Alfred awoke.
It is in vain—I cannot describe this day. My
happy heart is full, and 1 ain continually 3mer-
existmg Government
With the dispersion of Mr. Dorr’s troops en
ded all the difficulties. A Convention was short
ly afterwards called, by due course of law, to
amend the fundamental law, and a new Constitu
tion, based on more liberal principles than that ab
rogated, was proposed and adopted by the people.
Thus the great American experiment of change
in Government, under the influence of opinion
and not of force, has been again crowned with
success, and the State and people of Rhode Is
land repose in salety under institutions of their
own adoption, unterrified by any future pros
pect ot necessary change, and secure against
domestic violence or invasion Irom abroad. I
congratulate the country upon so happy a ter
mination of a condition of things which seemed
at one time seriously to threaten the public peace.
It may justly be regarded as worthy of the age,
and ol the country in which we live.
JOHN TYLER.
Washington, April 8,1844.
The Changes of Life.—The chain of daz
zling performances of inen celebrated in li tem-
or other vessels of the United States for service
in the waters of Rhode Island ; also, copies of
all orders to officers of revenue cutters for the
same service ; also, copies of any instructions
borne by the Secretary of War to Rhode Island
on his visit in 1842 to review the troops of the
Charter Government; also, copies of any order
or orders to any officer or officers of the Army or
Navy to report themselves to the Charter Gov
ernment ; and that he be requested to lay before
this House copies of any oilier papers or docu
ments in the possession of the Executive, con
nected with this subject, not above specially enu
merated”—
I have to inform the House that the Execu
tive did not deem it its “ duty to interfere with
the naval and military forces of the United
States,” in the late disturbances in Rhode Is
land ; that no orders were issued by the Execu
tive, or any ol the Departments, to military offi
cers, for the movement or employment of troops
to or in Rhode Island, other than those accom
panying this message, and which contemplated
the strengthening of the garrison at fort Adams,
which, considering the extent of the agitation in
Rhod* Island, was esteemed necessary and judi
cious ; that no orders were issued to naval offi
cers, to piepare steam or other vessels of the
United States forseivice in the waters of Rhode
Island ; that no orders were issued “ to officers
of the Revenue Cutters for said service ; that no
instructions were borne by the Secretary of War
to Rhode Island, on his visit in 1842, to review
die troops of the Charier Government; and that
no orders were given to any officer or officers of
the army or Navy to report themselves to the
Charter Government. “ Requests and applica
tions” were made to the Executive to fulfil the
guaranties of the Constitution which impose on
the Federal Government the obligation to pro
tect and defend each State of the Union against
“ domestic violence and foreign invasion ;” but
the Executive was at no time convinced that the
casus fcr.deris had arisen which required the in
terposition of the military or naval power in the
controversy which unhappily existed between
the People of Rhode Island. I was in no man
ner prevented from so interfering by the inquiry
whether Rhode Island existed as an independent
State of the Union under a charter granted at an
early period by tbe Crown of Great Britian, or
not. It was enough for the Executive to know
that she was recognised as a sovereign State by
Great Britain, by the treaty of 1783; that, at a
later dav, she had, in common with her sister
States, poured out her blood, and freely expen
ded her treasure, in the war of the Revolution ;
that she was a party to the Articles of Confede- j
ration; that at an after day she adopted the
Constitution of the United States a3 a free, inde
pendent, and Republican State; and that iu that
character she has always possessed hei full quota
of representation in the Senate and House of
Representatives; and, up to a recent day, she
has conducted all her domestic affairs and fulfill
ed all her obligations as a member of the Union,
in peace and in war, under her Charier Govern
ment, as it is denominated by the resolutions of
the House of the 23d March.
1 must be permitted to disclaim entirely and
unqualifiedly the right on the part of the Exe
cutive to make any real orsupposed defects, ex
isting in any State Constitution or form of Gov-, A PtAIN Man’s Opinion of Mr. Clay—
eminent the pretext tor a la.lure to enforce the | Tbe editor of the Portslnoluh) N . H . JourDa ,
laws or the guaranties of the Constitution of the has seen a prime ]eUer from a gentleman who
O l Cl LG • x hoc WltVlln O fo 111 mnnthe 1 J l.L
The door opened and in came Mr. Fleetman I , urt T and art( w >„ be fouud to con Y m ence .from
in a beautiful travelling cloak. We greeted him ;
right heartily, and were truly glad to see him so
unexpectedly, and, as it appeared, in so much ;
better circumstances than before. He embraced
me, kissed Polly, and bowed to Jenny, who had
not yet recovered from her agitation. Her pale
looks did not escape him. He inquired anxious
ly about her health. Polly replied to his ques
tions, and then he kissed Jenny’s hand, as though
he would beg her pardon for having occasioned
her such an alarm. But there was nothing to
be said about it, for the poor girl grew red again |
like a newly-blown rose.
I called for cake and wine, to treat my guest |
and benefactor better than on a former occasion ; ;
but he declined, as he could not tarry long, and '
he had company at the inn. Yet at Jenny’s re
quest, he sate down and took some wine with us. !
As he had spoken of the company which had \
come with him, I supposed that it must be a I
company of comedians, and inquired whether i
thev intended to stop aud play in C , observ- j
ing that the place was too poor. He laughed j
out, and replied, “ Yes, we shall play a comedy, j
but altogether gratis.” Polly was beside bersell
with joy, for she had long wanted to see a play.
She told Jenny, who had gone for the cake and
wine. Polly inquired whether many actors had
come with him.
“ A gentleman and lady,” said he, “butexcel
lent players!”
Jenny appeared unusually serious. She cast
a sad look at Fleetman, and asked, “And you—
will you also appear?” This was said in that
tone peculiarly soft, yet very penetrating, which
I have seldom observed in her, and only upon
rare occasions, and at the most serious moments.
Poor Fleetinan himself trembled at her toue,
so like the voice of the angel of doom. He look
ed up to her with an earnest gaze, and appeared
to struggle with himself for an answer, and then
advancing towards her a step, he said, “Miss,
by my God and yours, you alone can decide that!”
Jenny dropped her eyes. He continued to
speak. She answered. I could not compre
hend what they were about. They spoke—
Polly and I listened with the greatest attention,
but we neither of us understood a word, or rather
we heard words without any sense. And yet
Fleetman and Jenny appeared not only lo un
derstand one another perfectly; but, what struck
me as very strange, Fleetman was deeply moved
by Jenny’s auswers, although they expressed the
veriest trifles. At last Fleetman clasped his
hands passionately to his breast, raised his eyes,
streaming with tears, to heaven, and with an im
pressive appearance of emotion, exclataied,
“Then I am indeed unhappy !”
Polly could hold out no longer. With a comi
cal vivacity, she looked from one to the other,
and at last cried out, “ I do believe that you two
are beginning to play already !”
He pressed Polly’s hand, and said, “Ah! that
it were so!”
I put an end to the confusion by pouring out
the wine. We drank to the welfare of our friend.
Fleetman turned to Jenny, aad stammered out,
“ Miss, in earnest, my welfare?” She had her
hand upon her heart, cast down her eyes, and
drank.
Fleetman immediately became more compos
ed. He went to the cradle, looked at the child,
and when Polly and I bad told him its history,
he said to Polly, with a smile, *• Then you have
not discovered that I sent you this New- Year’s
present ?”
We all exclaimed in utter amazement, “ Who!
you ?” He theu proceeded to relate what fol
lows : “ My name,” said he, “ is not Fleetman.
I am Sir Cecil Fairford. My sister and myself
have been kept out of our rightful property by
my lathei’s brother, who took advantage of cer
tain ambiguous conditions in my father's will,
and involved us in a long and embarrassing law
suit. We have hitherto lived with difficulty
upon the little property left us by our mother,
Henry Clay and the Dorr Rebellion.
What a noble contrast is there between the
course of Henry Clay, and that of Martin Van
Buren, on the recent rebellion in Rhode Island!
The latter, with a shameless disregard of politi
cal principles and the public safety, favored the
movement of that cowardly gang of anarchists
and rebels; and to this day, through his minions
in Congress, is striving to make capital for him
self by waging war upon the gallant State which
crushed the treason in its bud. Mr. Clav, on
the other hand, denounced the conduct of Dorr
and his followers from the very first, and has
never hesitated to avow his hostility to his prin
ciples from that time to this. The Providence
Journal publishes the following letter from Mr.
Clay to Mr. Francis, who transmitted to him
the complimentary resolutions of the Law and
Order members of the Rhode Island Legisla
ture.—Neu York Commercial.
Augusta, March 31, 1844.
Mr Dear Sir:—I duly received, in this city,
your favor transmitting certain resolutions adopt
ed at a meeting of the Law aod Order members
of the General Assembly, held in Provideuce in
February last ; and I requestyouto convey to
them my profound acknowledgments for the
friendly and flattering allusion to my name in
some of the resolutions.
I congratulate your State upon its successful
vindication of social order and the authority of
the law.
The principles avowed and attempted to be
enforced, by subverting the existing government
in Rhode Island, struck at the foundation of all
safely and security in civilized society. They
were revolutionary, without being characterized
by a manly spirit of open and fearless resistance.
In rebuking and repudiating them, Rhode Island
has rendered an important service to the cause
of order, stability, and free institutions; and
having achieved a decisive triumph over disor
der and anarchy, I have no doubt that she will
not tarnish the lustre of it by any act of useless
and uncalled for severity.
I atn. with great respect, your friend and obe
dient servant, * H. CLAY.
Hon. John Brown Francis.
United States in reference to any such
utterly repudiate the idea, in terms as emphatic
as I can employ, that those laws are not to be
enforced, or guaranties complied with, because
the President may believe that the right of suf
frage, or any other great popular right, is either
j too restricted or too broadly enlarged. I also,
with equal strength, resist the idea that it (alls
within the Executive competency to decide in
controversies, of the nature of that which exist
ed in Rhode Island, on which side the majority
to the extent of the
merical majority. For
!?the Executive to assume such a power would
be to assume a power of the most danger
ous character. Under such assumptions the
i peace or tranquillity, but might be converted
j into the mere instruments of Executive will.'
some trifling circumstance. For example-:—
j Evelyn was walking one day in a field near I;iays
j Court; he stopped for a moment to look bn at
j the window o( a poor solitary thatched house,
j and beheld a young man carving a cartoot' o." j
j Tintoret, of which lie had bought a copy. Eve- r
I lyn requested permission to enter, and soon ye- }
commended the youthful artist to the patronage 1 , , , ,
of Charles II. Such was the commencement: of > °. f ‘ he P e ? P ‘ e may be ’ ° r aS 1
the fame of Gibbons. But for that walk, aud £
that listening of Evelyn,, he might still have pur
sued his solitary toil unfriended and unknown.
Tickel owed all his political prosperity, to a lit
tle poem suggested by the opera Rosamond.—
The late William Gifford was rescued from the
penury and hardships of a coasting trader, by
the report and sympathy of fish-women. Some
times, the very circumstances which seem to
portend our ruin, promote, to an extraordinary
extent, our prosperity and hnppiuess. This
maybe exemplified Irom the life of the present
amiable and learned Professor Lee. He was by
trade a carpenter, and had no means of extend-
! ing his knowledge ofianguages, except by ex-
| changing the grammar of one for that of another;
and his only time ol study, was after his conclu
sion of his work iu the evening. At leugth, he
married; and the expense of his new manner
of life obliged him to devote his evening as well
as his morning hours to the hammer and the
saw. At this criticaljuncture, his chest of tools
was consumed by fire, and destitution stared him
in the face. His loss attracted attention to his
character, and friends were not long wanting to
assist the patient and struggling scholar. But
for the burning of that chest of tools, the Cam
bridge Professor of Hebrew might at this in
stant have been meuding a window-frame at
Bristol, instead of occupying a stall in its Cathe
dral.—Fraser's Magazine for December.
has within a few months spent several days with
Mr. Clay. Tbe writer is in no situation where
he is in the least swayed by party preferences,
nor would he accept a public office, of any grade
or station whatever. He says:
“ I never (ormed an attachment so strong in so
short a time. Mr. Clay has certainly a most el
evated character—far outstripping auy public
man I ever met with. His wisdom, his justice,
his moderation, all contribute to place him be
yond the suspicion of a sordid motive. I am sat
isfied that he would to-morrow cheerfully yield
all pretension to the Executive Chair, if the in
terests of his country seemed to require the pro
motion of another. I can now well understand
1“ States of this Union would have no security for i be adjourned his claims lo make room for
the lamented Harrison. He has no concealments
no fears—no animosities—no jealousies. He
Actuated by selfish purposes, he might become j ! 3 l j* e b°ldesMnan in the expression ofhis pdit-
the great agitator, fomenting assaults upon the J
State Constitutions, and declaring the majority j
ical opinions I have ever met with,
ses trick and detests fraud.
He despi-
Poor Women in Paris.—We have a journal
called The Union, edited and published by work
ingmen, which states that while there are in this
capital three hundred societies for mutual succor
of male operatives, the females so numerou s.
have not one ol the kind. The calculation whic h
it adduces of the prices for which the sewin g
women toil is truly dismal, like that recentl y
oflered in London ; four sous for a soldier's shirt,
six for an ordinary one; tickeu pantaloons si:x
sous. They cannot gain more than eighteei i
sous per day, subject to deductions for light apt 1
thread. They suffer by the competition of th« •
convents and prisons. I perceive that the me- •
chanics in some of youi States complain in the »
same sense of your prison fabrics. Enquirer;
reckon ten thousand females at least—young
girls and mothers of families—involved in that :
terrible struggle for bare subsistence. We maj
not wonder that prostitution is ao alternative o| '
necessity in a multitude of instances. The in
crease of pauperism in the capitals and manu
facturing districts of Germany alarms and occu
pies government and the active political econo
mists.—Pans Corresp. National Intelligencer.
Hard lo Pronounce.—Many years since a
minister, in his travels, put up for the night with
a man who was supposed to possess but little oi
what people call ‘ common sense.’ Just as he
was about to retire for rest, the man said to the
minister.
‘ Tell ine sir, what three words in the English
language it is most difficult to pronounce.’
* I don’t know that I can,’ was the reply.
* Well,’ said the man, ‘ I will give you till to
morrow morning to answer me.’
Tbe minister, supposing his host was only a
semi-animus, thought no yore of the question
till it was proposed to him again iu the morning,
when he carelessly said he had not thought of it.
* Then.’ said the man, * I will tell you the
most difficult words to pronounce. They are,,
lam wrong.'
ofto-dav to be the minority of to-morrow, and the I . I'^ 0U Sh Mr. Clay has been the recipient for
1 mrty years of the most extravagant eulogies of
his admirers, he regards the compliments from
John Randolph and Basil Hall the two highest
be ever received. Tbe former said of him, that
all he required was a sight ofhis countenance to
know what he was about to utter; and the latter,
minority, in its turn, the majority, before whose
decrees the established order of tilings in the
S/ate should be subverted. Revolution, civil
commotion, and bloodshed, would be the inevi
table consequences. The provision in the Con- j
stitution intended for the security of the States
would thus be turned into the instrument 0 f ?* lat ie , was ln ? candid ever to become the Pies-
their destruction. The 1 J resident would be-1‘ L * ent °‘ th e Untied States.”
come, iu fact, the great Costitution-maker
for the States, and all power would be vested in
his hands.
When, therefore, the Governor of Rhode Is
land, by his letter of the 4th of April, 1842, made
i requisition upon the Executive for aid to put
down the late disturbances, I had no hesitation
i n recognising the obligations of the Executive
t o furnish such aid, upon the occurrence of the
The following is Mr. H. A. Wise’s letter to
the Hanover, (Va.) Committee, appointed to
make arrangements for the dinner given by the
citizens of that county to Mr. Clay.
Washington, June, 1840.
Gentlemen:—I have delayed answering yours
of the 19th instant, in order to make arrange
ments, if possible, to accept its kind invitation to
c ontingency provided for by the Constitution attend the dinner in honor of Mr. Clay, by the
nd laws. My letter of the 11th of April, in re-
l dy to the Governor’s letter of the 4th, is here-
* «rith communicated, together with all the corres
pondence which passed at a subsequent day,
aud the letters and documents mentioned in the
schedule hereunto annexed. From the corres
pondence between the Executive of the United
States and that of Rhode Island, it will not es-
• cape observation that while I regarded it as my du
ty to announce the principles by which I should
. joveru myself in the contingency of an armed
imterposition cn the part of this Government
being necessary to uphold the rights of the State
of Rhode Inland, and to preserve its domestic
peace, yet that ihe strong hope was indulg
ed and expressed that all the difficulties would
disappear befoie an enlightened policy of con-
t iliation and compromise, in that spirit I ad
dressed to Governor King the letter of the 7th
a.f May, 1842, marked private and confidential,
a nd received his reply of the 12ih of May of the
same year. The desire of the Executive was
irotn the beginning to bring the dispute to a ter
mination without the interposition of the milita
ry power of the United States ; and it will
continue to be a subject of self-congratu
lation that this leading object of policy was
finally accomplished. The Executive resist
ed all entreaties, however urgent, to depart
from this line of conduct. Information from
private sources had led the Executive to con
clude that little else was designed by Mr.
Dorr and his adherents than mere menace, with
a view to intimidation ; nor was this opinion in
any degree shaken until the 23d of June, 1842,
when it was strongly represented, from reliable
sources, as will be seen by reference to the doc
uments herewith communicated, that prepara
tions were making by Mr. Dorr, with a large force
in arms, to invade the State, which force had
been recruited in the neighboring States, and
was already preceded by the collection of milita
ry stores in considerable quantities at one or two
points. This was a state of things to which the Ex
ecutive could not be indifferent. Mr. Dorr speed
ily afterwards took up his head-quarters at Cbep-
achet, and assumed the command of what was
reported to be a large force, drawn chiefly from
citizens ofhis native county, at Taylorsville, ou
the 27th instant.
I need not tell you what I think of that man,
Henry Clay, of Hanover. He has done for him
self, what friends and fortune can do for no man,
and what neither friends nor foes can take from
him—‘ a fame, for which he himself has fought,
and trom which, no man’s censure can detract.’
And that fame is his reward.—Office could not
add a cubit to his stature. He has reflected
honor on the place ofhis birth, and a Henry was
born there before him; he has maintained the
reputation of Virginia’s sons, and Virginia is the
mother of‘heroes, statesmen and sages.’ 'yhat is
euougb for any one man, and it is enough foryou
to claim him as your own; you honor yourselves
in honoring Henry Clay. None can impeach
his disinterestedness now, and I wish that all Vir
ginia, all America, could see him. as you will
see him, and hear him as you will hear him—
a teacher, an experienced teacher, of eternal po
litical trutbs, and a witness of facts for freedom
against freedom’s foes. Heed him, I beseech
you, heed him whilst you may.
HENRY A. WISE.
By inclination, he has dissembled ; from dis
sition, deceived; aud broken faith, from l ov f °.
political treachery. e J
He has acknowledged no motive but intere -
owned no criterion of talent, but success • i
never performed a laudable action with an hY
est motive ; bor omitted a disgraceful one fr°°
honorable repugoance.
Self has been the sole deity of his wor*’ a .
to this, he has sacrificed faith and friends—
one without shame, the other without remoiv
Tortuous and treacberaus, he has sought h
circuitous routes, the power to destro/his
lies; gaining mean ends by meaner arts. F i»
ing upon power when he needed its exerciY
abusing friendship, when he no longer req a[rt i
its disinterestedness; disposing of pledges
promises of principles and party, as if ijj'
were but the cast-awav counters of his game ^
Believing in uo creed, but the pursuit of a-
bition ; tolerating no principle, but the grar’'!
cation of power; harboring no thought, but sell *
aggrandizement; capable of every thing Y
a disinterested action—he has surmounted tv
ascent ot life, without acquiring or deservin-
friend. s ‘
Tbe features ofhis character—cold, soulh^
dark and mysterious, resemble the antique mm r
mies of Egyptian shores—endued with the h L I
eaments, without participating in the feelings t |
humanity. a j
His tergiversations have been not more nu ffie .
rous than lucrative, nor more hasty than opj r
j t une - He has always awaited the profitable n:> ■
j ment for treachery, without indecent anxie-t
j and availed himself of it, without nnamiable rs
luctance. Repudiating Madison, and espouse
Clinton—deserting Cliuton, aud eulogising Kin/
I coquetting, at one and the same time, with Cra»!
| ford, with Adams, and with Jackson—betrsvin,
j all. and serving self!
i For in every change of principie orofpinv
j in all bis various intrigues, nndermings and str ■
I tegy; in success, and temporary defeat; in ere,,
j variety of circumstance, and every shade ofLe- j
.lief—he has been consistent to the sole idea ot
? his life. In all the vicissitudes offortune; in a
| his rapid evolutions: in his heaitless abandon-
j ment of his friends; iu his unblushing embrace
of enemies—he has ever been true to himself
With an eye that never slept, a purpose that ne
ver tired—he has steadily advanced to these-.
mit of his fortunes, and the moral depth of ha
degradation.
Ever craving for place; ever cringing to posi
tion; and ever crushing in power—ha hasshowj
the stealthy properties of the cat, end the cow
ardly ferocity of the tiger.
A friend without faith—an enemy without ho
nor—his smile is more fatal than bis frown. H;
caresses without sympathy, and abandons with
out pity—and means treachery, when he pro
fesses kindness.
To gain bis ends, however dishonest, he has
advocated measures, however disreputable. The
principles he hss assumed without sincerity, he
repudiates without repugnance; and when ca
longer useful, they are no longer required.
With a leader of such desperate ambition, and
abandoned principles, how much may be feared
from a party, how little be hoped !
These estimates refer to Mr. Van Buren’s po
litical character entirely.
Turn from this portrait to the gallant leader o r
the Whigs.
The mind of Clay is bold, independent, deci
sive ; his action energetic and determined. He
rushes to the goal of his thought, like the im
mortal steeds of Achilles. He fears no danger:
he hesitates at no obstacles ; he listens to no ti
morous suggestions. Deed follows determina
tion, as the thunderbolt the flash. His courage
waits upon his will. Too careless of consequen-
,ces to weigh well their nature, too indifler-
enr to report to heed much its surmises, he ur
ges a measure to its results, with a will despotic
in its dictates, and a moral energy almost terrific.
A Hannibal in courage and daring resolution,
lie gains the field at Cannae, and rushes upon
Rome and empire. He loiters not, like the Car-
thegenian, upon the battle-plain, to gather the
spoils of conquest. Leaving these to his fol
lowers. he outstrips the voice of victory, and he
ralds his own triumph to the very thresholds of
the astonished foe.
With a mind and purpose indomitable, he
Dims at command, and avows his determination.
He enters upon hts career undaunted : with a
heart no obstacle can terrify ; and a resolution
no opposition can shake. As the eagle, rousing
her mighty strength, and kindling her undazzled
eye at the full mid-day orb, he boldly surveys
the quarry, pursues it in full career, and Irotn
hts towering position, dashes upon victory.
With a perseverance, that bears the airofro-
i nuance, he overcomes the niggardly provisions
of fortune, and the hostile intentions of man.
. Nature has no difficulties he cannot surmount,
and human power no energy he cannot control.
His mind is an impregnable fortress; entrenched
| therein like another Utica, he defies Cassar and
. his fortunes.
j Born in poverty, he has conquered its en-
‘thralments: reared in indigence, he has made
! penury the stepping-stone to his greatness.—
| With no parent to direct, and no friend to assist,
j he has carved from the quarry of hts mind the
1 statue of his lame.
He has his faults of character. Its vices are
j virtues overstrained. If the energy of his mind
| is indomitable, his determination is unalterable,
j His intense courage sometimes becomes uncon
trollable audacity; his firmness degenerates imo
obstinacy : and the very magnanimity ofhis char
acter, in its self-forgetfulness, leads to excessive
display.
But he never turned his back upon friend or
foe. The hand that he pledges in friendship, cr
raises in enmity, is warmed with the blood ofhis
heart. And the promise that he gives, equaiiv
with :he threat that lie makes, is sacredly ob
served.
With all his moral affinity to what is good in
idea, great tn conception, and glorious in per
formance, he hates a meanness worse tbau a
crime, and fears dishonor more than death.
Such minds and such characters alone can
give to morality consistency, order to politics, or
stability to principles. For the mind is the type
of the idea, and the character, its developemen:
and sole security.
He thinks witrf the justness of sentiment, as
he speaks with the authority of truth. And hts
eloquence always moves ; for his language, whi e
it occupies the mind, warms tbe heart- He Las
governed multitudes with the power of bis
thoughts, and charmed them with the beauty oi
histones; and with a versatility of talent, as ad
mirable as rare, has enraptured Senates and ani
mated armies. At the head of his battle, Boli
var read his speeches to give courage to his sol
diers and victoty to his standards.
Such are the portraits of tbe leaders of the
two parties. Uuder whose guidance, our coun
try would be most safe, it is for the peopieto
judge. To their wisdom, lei the reference be
made.—Boston Courier.
The Cities of the Empire Stale.—There are 9
cities in this State, which have all held their
election for Mayor and Common Council during
the last and present months; with the following
result:
Buffalo
Rochester
Schenectady
Troy
Albany
Hudson
Brooklyn
New York 1
Total, 6 Whig Mayors, 1 Native American,
and 2 Loco Focos, (Brooklyn and Utica)—7
Whig councils, 1 Native American, and 1 Loco
Foco.—N. Y. Express.
The Wesleyan Methodists in England,
who have undertaken to raise a million of dollars
within seven years, for extending day schools
throughout their circuits, are advancing in the
work, with their accustomed zeal and energy.
Whig
last year Loco
Whig
do
do
Whig
do
Whig
Whig
do
do
Whig
do
do
Whig
do
Loco
Loco
do
Loco
live American
do
Loco
Adulterations.—A professor of Chemistry,
Jules Garner, has doubly disturbed the bon vi-
vants of the capital by a thick treatise (523 pages)
on the Falsification of Alimentary Substances,
and the chemical means of ascertaining them-
The story is endless and dreadful, and leaches,
unfortunately, as much evil as it detects- Sad
necessity that of resorting to chemical analysis
at every purchase of the necessaries of life ! The
snuff-takers tremble from the discovery of large
depots of pounded glass for their use. A cry
comes from the Rhine that the real wme of tha*
region has become a fable, (mythe.) At May-
ence, Frankfort, Coblentz, Mtuttgardt, all the
German wines are fabricated or adulterated ou a
j large scale, with improviug scientific system- *
Smyrna paper of tbe 29th ultimo, sent to o’ 8
from Constantinople, denounces the import3tio°
of French paper for a deficiency of ten per cec--
per ream, between the proper aod actual quanti
ties—430 instead of 480 sheets.—ibid.
“ Honor and Shame from no [eomdiUon rise- ~~
John H- Steele, the Governor elect of Aew Hampsln 1 *'
was born in North Carolina, and was a carriage
by trade. He emigrated to New Hampshire, and
distinguished tor his ingenuity, and set in motion t ^
hist power looms in the town of Peterboro.
man of sound intellect and honest prineip.es, no ^
present elevation is a high compliment to his charac
and attainments.