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a-UL&ULI ILiBUFIXfitaiVUL
Ik most perfect Government would be that which, emanating directly from the People, Governs least —Costs least —Dispenses Jnsliccto all, and confers Privileges on None. —BENTIIAM.
BY T. a REYNOLDS.
AMERICAN DEMOCRAT,
PUBLISHED WEEKLY
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rry- V 11. Sales of LAND, by Administrators, Executors.
Guardians, are required, by law, to be held on the firs'*
Tuesday in the month, between the hours of 10 in the fore"
•noon, an l 3 in the afternoon, at the Court-llouse in the Coun
tv in which the property is situated. Notice of these must
i,e »ivcn in a public Gazette, SIXTY DAYS, previous to the
•Jay of sale.
Sales of PERSONAL PROPERTY, must he advertised in
the same manner, FORTY DAYS previous to the day of sale.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate, must he pub
lished FORTY Days.
Notice that application will he made to the Court of Ordi
tary, for leave to sell LAND, must be published FOUR
MONTHS.
Sales of NEGROES, must be made at public auction, on
,he first Tuesday of the month, between the legal hours of
sale, at the place of public sales in the county where the let
ters'testamentary, of Administration or Guardianship, shall
hive been granted, SIXTY DAYS notice being previously
given in one of the public gazettes of this State, at) 1 at the door
of the Court-House, where such sales arc to be held.
Notice for leave to sell NEGROES, must be published for
FOUR MONTHS, before any order absolute shall be made
thereon by the Court. _
Alt business of this nature, will receive prompt attention, a
the Office of the AMERICAN DEMOCRAT.
REMITTANCES BY MAIL. —“A Postmaster may en
close money in a letter to the publisher of a newspaper, to
pay the subscription of a third person, and frank the letter, if
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All Letters of business mustbeaddtessod to the Pi’blisiieri
Post-Paid.
WIIY DO THE FLOWERS BLOOM?
BY MRS. J. E. CARPENTER.
« Why do the flowers liloona mother,
Why do the sweet flowers bloom,
And brightest those we rear’d mother,
Around dear brother’s tomb V*
“ To fill the world with gladness,
My child, were flow’rcts given—
To crown the earth with beauty,
And show the road to Heaven! ’
Then why do the flow rets fade mother,
Why do the sweet flowers fade,
When winter’s dreary clouds, mother,
Earth’s brightest scenes pervaded”
“ My child, those flow’rs that wither,
Have seeds that still remain
an.. ., ...a.;. . ......«b.. r
.Restore to life again!”
•" And shall not those who die, mother,
'Come back to live once more,
E’en as the rain and sun, mother,
Those beauteous flow’rs restore 1”
" Yes —yes, my child, such jxnvcrs
To human flow’rs are given,
Here earth’s frail flow’rs may blossom,
But we may rise —in Heaven.
Machine Poetry.
SAMPLES.
SAMPLE L
The devil has come to town they say,
And through the Streets doth roam;
If he should happen to call for me,
Just tell him I’m not at home.
sample 11.
’Tis sweet—the west with deep crimson is glowing,
And eve o’er the plains her dark mantle is throwing,
The night-raven singeth of sorrow;
The soft gentle dews on the flovvrets are falling,
And a voice like an angel’s methinks I hear calling,
‘ Arise! and get shaved for to-morrow I’
SAMPLE 111.
While warriors are fighting,
And madly delighting
In carnage and slaughter,
Oh ! let me sit smoking
Or quietly soaking
My corns in warm water 1
SAMPLE IV.
Memory brings us golden treasures,
Fancy culls us fragrant flowers,
Marriage yields us hallowed pleasures,
Such as filled blest Eden’s bowers;
Eating gives the body vigor,
Drinking whiskey lights the phiz,
Lamp black makes a Guinea nigger
Look much whiter than he is.
SPOONS, O. G.
M. JOHNSTON,
JL I I ©irna@ J at
MACO\, GEO.
OFFICE over the old Darien Dank.
March 27—45—ts.
SIKTJRB. « SAtTCK&aU
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
&i\.
Forsyth, March 27 —45—ts.
OLIVER H. PRINCE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
.71. 1CO* V, GEORGIA.
June 26 —G— ts.
MACON, Ga.
THE subscriber has again taken this Kb
lahliMlllllCllt where lie will cl ways be
happy to attend to the calls of his customers, and the
travelling public generally.
Macon, April 3—46 LAMEit.
D3!£C3?..£. I TIw “ jFm JTraUe, ftoto Dutfcs, Jio Sebt, Separation from Baufcs, 25coitom», Jstctrenchmntt, anU a Strict sroiicrnwc to the constltutl3n.*’
MISCELLANY.
Affection for tlie Dead.
BY WASHINGTON IRVING.
The sorrow for the (lead, is the only
sorrow from which we refuse to be di
vorced. Every other wound would we
seek to heal—every other allection forget
—but this wound we consider it a duty
to keep open—this affliction we cherish
and brood over in solitude. Where is
the mother that would willingly lorget
the infant that perished like a blossom
from her arms, though every recollec
tion is like a pang. Where is the child
that would willingly forget the most ten
der of parents, though to remember be
but to lament? Who, even in the hour
ot agony, would forget the friend over
whom he mourns—who, even when the
tomb is closing upon the remains of her
he most loved, when he feels his heart,
as it were, crushed in the closing of its
portals, would accept of consolation that
must he bought by forgetfulness? No,
the love that survives the tomb is one of
the noblest attributes of the soul. If it
has its woes, it has likewise its delights,
and when the overwhelming burst of
grief is calmed into the gentle recollec
tion, when the sudden anguish and the
convulsive agony over the present ruins
of all that we most loved, is softened
away into meditation, on all that it was
in the days of its loveliness—who would
root out such a sorrow from the heart ?
Though it may sometimes throw a pass
ing cloud over the bright hour of gayety,
or spread a deeper sadness over the hours
of gloom, yet who would exchange it
even for the song of pleasure, or the burst
of revelry ? . No there is a voice from the
tomb sweeter than song. There is a re
membrance of the dead to which we turn
even from the charm of the living. Oh,
the grave!—the grave ! —lt buries every
terror—covers every defect—extinguishes
every resentment. From its peaceful bo
som spring none but fond regrets and ten
der recollections. Who can look down
upon the grave even of an enemy, and
nit feel a compunctious throb,that should
have warred with the poor handful of
earth that lies mouldering before him.
.And the graves of those we loved—
what a place for meditation ! There it
is that we call up in long review the
whole history of virtue and gentleness, j
and the thousand endearments lavished !
upon us almost unheeded in the daily j
intercourse of intimacy, there it is that ;
we dwell upon the tenderness,the solemn, j
awful tenderness of the parting scene— j
the bed ol death, with all its stilled grief;
—its noiseless attendants, its mute, watch-1
fill assiduities—the last testimonies ol ’
expiring love —the feeble,fluttering, thril- j
ling, oh, how thrilling, the pressure of the i
hand—the last fond look of the glazing
eye, turning on us cvpn from the thres
hold of existence—the faint faltering
accents of allection.
Ay, go to the grave of buried love, and
meditate ! Then settle the account with
thy conscience for every past benefit un
requited—every past endearment unre
garded, of that departed being who can
never—never —never return to he sooth
ed by any contrition. If thou art a child,
and hast added a sorrow to.the soul, or a
furrow to the silver brow of .iffectionate
parents—if thou art a husband, and hast
ever caused the fond bosom that ventured
its whole happiness in thy arms, to doubt
one moment of thy kindness or thy truth
—it thou art a friend, and hast ever
Pronged in thought or word, or deed, or
spirit, that generosity confided in thee —
if thou art a lover, and hast ever given
one unmerited pang to that true heart,
which now lies cold and still beneath thy
feet—then he sure that every unkind
look, every ungracious word, every un
gentle action, will come thronging back
upon thy memory, and knocking dole
fully at thy soul—then be sure that thou
wilt lie down sorrowing and repenting
on that grave—and utter the unheeded
groan, and pour thy unavailing tears,
more deep, more bitter, because unheard
and unavailing.
Then weave the chaplet of flowers,
and strew the beauties ot nature about
the grave, console thy broken spirit, it
thou canst, with those tender, yet futile
tributes of regret;—but take warning by
the bitterness of this thy coni rite affliction
over the dead, and henceforth be more
faithful and affectionate in the discharge
of thy duty towards the living.
Dr. Adam Clarke.
“A thatched cabin” in the village ol
Mobeg, in the north of Ireland, was the
birthplace of Adam Clarke, and his in
heritance was the universal dispensation
of his country —‘poverty.’ The labors
of the field added strength to a frame by
nature vigorous ; and the most meagre
system of education that any civilized
country ever extended to its people was
his intellectual lot. But this state of
things did not appear to obstruct ltis des
tinyfon the contrary, his easy victory
over all difficulties throws out his char
acter into a bolder relief. Adam Clarke
having attained the age of nineteen, was
admitted through the kindness of John
Wesley to a place in Kingswool college,
near Bristol, where he added but little to
his stock of learning; hut it was here,
while digging in 'he garden, that he turn-;
MACON, WEDNESDAY, JULY 31, 1844.
ed up a golden half guinea, which he
laid out in the purchase of a Hebrew
Grammar. And it was in this trifling
accidental circumstance, much more than
in his meeting with the founder of Me
thodism, that the acquirements and fame
of Dr. Clarke originated ; for, however
his learned Commentary may excite ad
miration, and preserve his name amongst
the celebrated divinity scholars of the
age, it is, and ev«r will be, for the variety
and extent of his knowledge of Oriental
languages and literature that he will be
longest held in remembrance. And the
foundation of this great fabric was the
Hebrew Grammar of which he became
the owner so fortuitously.— Fisher's Co
lonial Magazine.
Campbell.
An intelligent and observant American,
now residing in London, favors the edi
tors of the New York Commercial Ad
vertiser occasionally with very entertain
ing letters. We extract from one of them
the following account of the poet’s last
appearance in public:
Though I have often met Campbell in
private, the last time I saw him in public
was at an anniversary dinner of the Lite
rary Fund, where, together with four
hundred of the multitude, most of the
literary men of repute in England had
assembled, and some of our own country
men among them —Washington Irving
and Edward Everett, for instance. Moore,
Hal lam, Archbishop Whately, Talfourd,
James, and several other men of emi
nence spoke in the course of the evening.
Campbell was one of the stewards, and
upon him devolved the duty of proposing
one of the regular toasts: “Mr. Hallam
and the histories of England.”
The preceding toast had been “ The
army and navy,” and the notes of Camp
bell’s superb ode, “The Mariners of Eng
land,” had scarce died upon the ear, when
ht rose to give the health of Mr. Hallam.
The evening was far advanced, the room
hot, and though Campbell
was received on rising with loud cheers
and commenced his speech most effec
tively, his language as he proceeded be
came incoherent and unmeaning, and
notwithstanding his age and the nature
of the occasion, (sacred to the cause of
literature) —the coughing and other signs
of disapproval became so audible among
the nsse mill ago that he brought his speech
to an abrupt close, and sat down evident
ly mortified and distressed. Mr. llal
-I,Tin’s reply to the toast was brief; and
when he ceased speaking Lord Mahon
rose to give “Mr. Moore and the poets of
England.” Before speaking directly of
the writings and genius of Moore, he ad
verted to the general spirit of English
poetry, and the obligations of English
literature to the great poets of the present
day. He spoke of the national odes of
England, and reminded his audience that
a poet was living, was present, who had
sung his country’s glory in strains of un
equalled grandure aud fire.
His Lordship continued—“ The notes
of ‘The Mariners of England’ have hard
ly ceased to vibrate through this hall;
and while the fame of Nelson is cherish
ed, while the battle of the Baltic is re
membered, let Englishmen never cease
to honor him who so eloquently bids
them remember
Full many a fathom deep
By the wild and stormy steep,
Elsimore!”
The heart of the assembly was touch
ed; and the implied rebuke of their late
treatment of the poet, and the consequent
need of reparation, were so universally
felt that they joined their voices like the
voice of one man, in a cheer so loud and
prolonged that the very walls seemed to
tremble. Campbell himself was greatly
affected, and tears of joy and pride stream
ed down the old man’s cheeks as he part
ly rose from his seat and bowed his ac
knowledgments to the assembly. He
soon afterwards left the room, and I never
again saw him on any public occasion.
Godly Books. —In 1626, a pamphlet
was published in London, entitled “a
most delectable, sweet perfumed Nosegay
for God’s saints to smell at.” About the
year 1646, there was published a work
entitled, “a pair of bellows to blow off
the dust cast upon John Fry;” and an
other, called “the snuffers of Divine
Love,” Cromwell’s time was particularly
famous for title pages. The author of a
work on charity entitles Ins book, “ Hooks
and Eyes for Believer’s Breeches ;” and
another who wished to exalt poor hu
man nature, calls his labors “ High heel
ed shoes for dwarfs in holiness;” and
another, “ Cru ins of comfort forthe chick
ens of the Covenant.” A Quaker whose
outward man the “ powers that were”
thought to imprison, published “A Sigh
of Sorrow tor the Sinners of Zion, breath
ed out of a Hole in the Wall of an Earth
en vessel, known among men by the
name of Samuel Fish.” About the same
time there was also published “The spi
ritual Mustard Pot to make the soul
sneeze with Devotion;” “ Salvation’s
Vantage Ground, or a leaping Stand for
Heavenly Believers;” and another, “A
Shot aimed at the Devil’s head Quarters,
through the Tube of the Cannon of the
Covenaut; this is an author who speaks
plain language which the Illiterate Hep
robate cannot fail to understandanoth
er, “A Heaping Hook well tempered for
the stubborn Ears of the Coming Crops ;
or Biscuits Baked in the Oven of Charity,
carefully conserved for the Chickens of
the Church, the Sparrows of the Sweet
Swallows of Salvation ;” to another we
have the following copious description
of its contents : “Seven Sobs of a Sorrow
ful Soul to Sin, or the Seven Penitent
Psalms of the Princely Prophet David,
whereunto are also annexed William
Hnmmi’s Handful of Honey Suckles,
and divers Godly Pithy Ditties now
newly augmented.”
An after-scene of battle near Soltlin.
A travelling correspondent, in his de
scription, says :—“At one o’clock, the
cannonading ceased ; and I went out on
foot to Soldin to learn to whose advan
tage the battle had turned out. Towards
evening, seven hundred of the Russian
fugitives came to Soldin, a pitiful sight
indeed; some holding up their hands,
cursing the King of Prussia; without
hats, without clothes ; some on foot, oth
ers two on a horse, with their heads and
arms tied up ; some dragging along by
the stirrups, and others by the horses’
tails.
“ When the battle was decided, and
victory shouted for the Prussian army, 1
ventured to the place where the canno
nading was. After walking some ways,
a Cossack’s horse came running full speed
towards me. I mounted him, and,on my
way, for seven miles and a half, on this
side of the field of battle, 1 found the
dead and the wounded lying on the
ground, sadly cut in pieces. The furth
er l advanced, the more these poor ciea
tures lay heaped one npm another.
“That scene I shall never forget.—
The Cossacks as soon as they saw me,
cried, “dear sir. water ! water ! Righte
ous God ! what a sight! men, women,
and children ; Russians aud Prussians,
carriages and horses, oxen, chests, bag
gage, all lying one upon another to the
height of a man ! Seven villages around
me in flames, and the inhabitants either
massacred or thrown into the fire !
“ The poor wound—what a horrible
illustration of the war spirit!—were still
firing at one another in the greatest exas
peration. The field of battle was a plain
two miles and a half long, and wholly
covered with dead and wounded ; there
was not even room to set my foot with
out treading on some of them! Several
brooks were so filled up with Russians,
that Ido affirm it, they lay heaped one
upon another as high as two men, and
appeared like hills to the even ground !
I could hardly recover myself from the
fright occasioned by the great and miser
able outcry of the wounded' A noble
Prussian officer, who had lost both legs,
cried out to me: ‘Sir, pray show rue
some compassion, and despatch me at
once.”
“ The Times ain't now as they used
to was.” —Folks don’t go to bed now-a
days—they retire. Nobody eats their
dinner—people take some refreshment.—
Nobody goes to church—but people at
tend divine service. There is no Sun
day—it is Sabbath. No one gets his
tooth pulled—it is extracted. Instead of
drinking tea or coffee, the fashionables
only sip a little. No one tears a hole in
his pantaloons—but it is no rare thing
that he lacerates them. The ladies don’t
go a visiting—they only make calls.—
Young men don’t go a courting: they
only step in to pass the evening. Our
gratid-mas used hard-backed chairs, but
our belles have stuffed backs to their
seats!
Punch on long dresses. —lt is a fact
that ladies at present wear very long dres
ses. Every fact in female fashions is
meant expressly to attract notice ; accor
dingly, we feel called upon to notice this.
Evil has ever its counterpoise of good.
It is sad to behold the train bedraggled
with mud, but consoling to reflect that it
sweeps the crossing. The dust that sat
urates the flowing robe might else have
bedimmed the boot of Wellington.
The drapery which shrouds the exqui
site instep conceals, also, the discolored
stocking. What matters the bunion, un
espied? Elegance may be veiled by su
perfluity of vesture ; but it is in the pow
er of her proprietress to elevate the
flounce ; nor need the ankle of symmetry
absolutely be sandalled in vain.
Heedlessness, going down stairs be
hind Beauty, may tread on her skirt ; but
the laceration of the garment is good for
trade.
Time is one thing : Extent another.—
The dress of loveliness may reach from
here to Jericho; but what lady, willing
ly, would wear a gown longer than a
week ?
A good book and a good woman are
excellent things to those who justly know
how to appreciate their value ; but there
are many who judgeof both only by their
covering.
To involve yourself in inextricable
difficulty, shape your course of action
not by fixed principles, but by temporary
expedients.
POLITICAL.
The Democracy of Georgia.
We doubt whefher there is a spot upon
earth where the pure Republican spirit
burns with a brighter glow titan in our
own State. If there is any one quality
which distinguishes the honest, intelli
gent Georgian, it is that spirit of inde
pendence which gives tone to his whole
character. Although a warm and zealous
partisan, he is not to be bound by the fet
ters of party, and if he imagines that an
attempt lias been made to clasp these fet
ters about him, he is never at rest until
they are cast entirely off. Hence Georgia
has been considered a fickle, changeable
State in her politics. She has been a
fickle, changeable State in her parties,
but not in her politics. Georgia always
has been, is, and always will be Repub
lican. And we do not use the term Re
publican in that signification which ap
plies as well to one political party ns an
other. We mean by it that Georgia al
ways has been, is, and most probably will
be attached as a State, to the principles
of the Democratic party; to a Jefferso
nian construction of the Federal Consti
tution; to the preservation of the Bights
of the States, and to a strict limitation of
the powers of the General Government.
It is true that of late, through the
mighty control which the love of power
exerts over the minds and hearts of pro
minent politicians, the leaders of one of
the great political parties in Georgia have
very generally abandoned those princi
ples, which have always been known as
the principles of the State. —That they
have done this, however, expecting at the
hands of the great Whig master, a “quid
pro quo,” and not with a view to the in
terests, or welfare, or future prosperity
and security of their own State, does not
admit of the shadow of a doubt; and so
bold and reckless have been their moves
upon the political chess-board, that they
have ensured their own ruin. Even if
actual success should attend them, and
apparent success should attend their
principles in the approaching conflict,
they will have achieved little or nothing
in changing the political complexion of
Georgia, and two such victories will un
doubtedly ruin them. Their profligate
course, however, has brought a disgrace
upon the name of our State—has given
her a character of fickleness, nay, for
corruption which she does not deserve.
The Democracy should he mote active,
more vigilant, more determined to con
quer iti the State of Georgia than any
other State in the Union; because we shall
have to contend here, not simply for the
principles of our party hut for the tarnish
ed honor of our State, not simply against
the old school Federalists of the North,
but against the new school Federalists of
the South, not simply against the foes of
Georgia and her interests in other por
tions of the confederacy, but against trai
tors to her and her rights, and her wel
fare upon her own bosom.
But that spirit of independence which
characterizes the Democracy of Georgia,
while it occasioned the defeat of our par
ty in the last, will insure our triumph in
tiie approaching contest. The Federal
party triumphed in Georgia last year, not
through their own strength, but through
our weakness. There was division, dis
sention and lukewarmness in the Repub
lican ranks, these, these and these alone
defeated us. Whenever the Democracy
of Georgia have been united—whenever
they have been satisfied with themselves
and their leaders—whenever they have
moved in solid phalanx to thc’field of bat
tle, they have always proved victorious.
Never before, however, have they been
as powerful as now, because never before
have the principles of their opponents
been so clearly avowed and openly ad
vocated. The Federal party, under the
name of Whig, have been fighting under
a mask in Georgia. They never have
exposed their real features to the gaze of
of the public. But now, in order to
strengthen the party generally through
out the country; in order to conciliate
Northern manufacturers, and to secure
lor themselves power and office , they
have thrown off the mask, and app. ar in
propria persona — Federalists —be-
fore the people. But have they, in so
doing, strengthened themselves in
Georgia? Mark the indications of the |
times. See the number of prominent,
active, influential men who are deserting
their ranks.—Behold the vain efforts
which they are making to get up animal '
excitement, by appealing to grovelling i
tastes and passions, and see in these un
propitious circumstances, the answer.
The singular hardihood with which they >
have dared to present themselves,stripped
of every principle, nay, even ot every
profession of principle which may have
covered their political nakedness, betore
the people, will be met by a popular de
nunciation, which has rarely been heard
before. The Republicans of Georgia feel
that their interests and honor are at stake;
and the masses in Georgia are Republi
can, and always have been such—the as
sertions of Georgia Nullifiers before
Northern Federal assemblies, to the con
trary notwithstanding. The spirit of
lukewarmness which disheartened the
Democracy last year, has ceased to exist;
all are united in one common brother-
VOL. TI—ISO 11.
hood ; day after day brings new additions
to their ranks of numbers, of talent and
of enthusiasm; and hour after hour gives
yet stronger indications that they will
achieve a glorious victory.
Savannah Georgian.
Eloquent Extract from the Speech of
Mr. Dallas, (democratic candidate
for Vice-President,) in the Senate of
the United States, February 8, 1833,
upon the revenue collection bill. Sec
Gales and Seato/i's Congressional
Debates, vol. ( Jth, part Is?, page 430.
“Sir, 1 have heard our army and navy
strangely characterized in the course of
ill is discussion. They have been termed
hired mercenaries! Do they merit the
imputation? Are the band of gallant
officers who have shielded you from inva
sion, or’earried the national flag in tri
umph over every sea and under every
sun, hired mercenaries? We used no
such language during the war for ‘free
trade and sailor’s rights while our tars
were humbling a haughty foe, and send
ing into oui ports, to be greeted with our
acclamations, prize after prize ; or while
the scarlet trappings of British enterprise
and valor glittered on the heights of Bal
timore, or on the plains of New Orleans,
destined at both places tocncountcra re
lic of revolutionary’worth. We used no
such words as ‘hired mercenaries’ then;
they were unknown, alike to our hearts
and our lips; and may they pass into ut
ter oblivion before times equally trying
shall again occur.
“Our Union is an incalculable blessings
While it has lasted, what have we not
accomplished, both in peace and in war?
All the great objects of human associa
tions have been cultivated and attained
with unexampled rapidity aud case. Li
berty hits been chastened and made for
ever stable ; science has been stormed in
her hundred trenches, and mastered in
her {thousand ramparts; happiness has
gently diffused itself throughout an im
mense population, taken its own ways
over a boundless region of country; and
wealth mid power have gradually made
the American people rivals of Greek and
Roman fame. All the high aims, too,of
a virtuous ambition have been reached
in war. Independence consummated ;
renown every’ where acknowledged ; gto
ry, bright amongst the brightest. Yield
away the constitution of the Union, and
where are wc? Frittered into fragments,
and not able to claim one portion of the
past as peculiarly its own ! Sir, our
Union is not merely n blessing—it is a
political necessity. Wc cannot exist
without it. I mean, that all of existence
which is worth having must depart with
it. Our liberties could not endure the
incessant conflicts of civil and contermi
nous strife; our independence would be
an unreal mockery, and our very memo
ries would turn to bitterness. .The sena
tor from Virginia justly compared our
political institutions to the planetary sys
tem. I wish he could agree with me in
saying, that the great principles of attrac
tion and repulsion are equally necessary
in the two cases; that the sudden inter
ruption o( either must be fatal; and that
the national Union of sovereign States
can alone preserve us from darkness and
chaos.”
Dortrnitsofl’lay und Fielln^hiiyseii.
The Boston Quarterly Review for July
lias an article under the head of “The
Presidential Nominations,” &c., in which
the portraitures of Clay and Freiinghu
sen (the Bane and Antidote) are sketch
ed in the following forcible manner:
“ Messrs. Clay and Frelinghnysen, re
present what we may term ultra Whig
istn. Mr. Clay is unquestionably a man
of ability. He is a splendid orator; he
has great power over the men with whom
he comes into immediate contact; but
he is no statesman. He is ambitious, but
short sighted ; hold, daring, but incapa
ble of appreciating general principles or
of perceiving the relation between effects
and their causes, when these causes are
not near at hand. Yet he is abashed by
no inconsistency, disturlied by no seli
contradiction, and can defend with a firm
countenance and without the least mis
giving what every body but himself sees
to be a political fallacy, or a logical ab
surdity. Refute him, demonstrate with
mathematical certainty tfiat his proposi
tion is false, confront him with names,
dates, figures, and he stands unmoved,
unconscious of what you have dene, re
iterates his proposition in a bolder tone,
reasserts it with growing confidence, and
pours forth the full tide of his rich tfc
suasive eloquence in its defence. You
stand aghast. What can the man mean 7
His insensibility confounds you, and you
almost begin to distrust your own de
monstration of a problem in Euclid.
In regard to right and wrong, he man
ifests the same sigular self-possession.-
He is uo more disturbed by being con
victed of moral insensibility than of in
tellectual absurdity, lie sees no moral
absurdity in determing right and wrong
by parallels of latitude, and in declaring
a thing to l>e right on one side of a given
parallel, and wrong on the other. A man
of rate abilities, but apparently void of
both moral and intellectual conscience,
who finds no difficulty in withstanding,
when necessary to his purposes, (lie eter
nal laws both of logic aud morality, and