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art’ waited hi pi ogvoswive coiiim; iralft planet to plain t, enjoying at every successive change a more sublime felicity than in the lust. I .’ stts Hxtibwi* .1 Tale, with r A Lira I . —ln a small town in one of tlia New K.rglan.l States there resided some vents ago, two young men, whose subse quent fortunes servo forcibly to show the advan tage of personal applic Uton to study and busi ness on tile one hand, and the folly of relying on ancestral honors and extensive patrimonies on the other. Samuel Ledyard was the only favorite son of a gentleman, who in point of riches and honors, stood confessedly at the head of the aristocracy of that section of the country. Nature had done much for Sam uel’s person, though she had not been re markably generous towaids him in the be stowment of her mental girts. The lact howe ver, that he was the darling son of the rich and Hon. Judge Ledyard, was enough in his estima tion, not oulv to make up for what nature had refused to giant him, hut to give him a great su periority ov. r his less favored neighbors. The best that the fashion ot this world can give was abundantly provided to gratify the vanity of Sa muel. That he was superior to every one else, none dared openly to deny, as all feared to incur the haughty frowns of the patrician father; and it is not astonishing that Samuel should presume himself to he all which the flatterers of his fami ly insisted trial he should be. Within a few rods of the stately mansion of Judge Ledyard, stood the humble dwel ling of Peter Le Forest, the house-joiner.— Peter had a son of the same age of Samuel. Stephen Le Forest, however, was but a poor bov ; and what added if possible, still more to his shame, in the estimation of the Led vards, he was a oiner—a laboring man.— Though Samuel and St phen were near neighbors from their birth, little acquaintance and less intimacy was allowed to subsist be tween them. If Samuel in his great condescen- 1 sion ever did speak to Stephen, it was to remind j him >f his ather’s greatness and the obscurity ■ of'riephen's.andto insulthimby any other means a; hand. St -phen bore this becomingly; for the thought nev r had entered into his head that he could be equal to the Ledyards. These boys, for the most of the time from six to sixteen, went to school, but not togeth er. A select establishment must be prepared lor the childen of the Judge, while Stephen, with his scanty supply of books, under the tuition of different masters, at the common schools, had to make the best progress he could. He applied himself, however, and made good proficiency. When these youths were at the a<re of sixteen, and as Samuel was about to enter college, the Ledyards learned with surprise and indignation that it was the de sign of Peter Le Forest to send Stephen also to college, and at the same aniv-isit where Sam uel was to acquire his literary honors! Stephen Le Forest, however,hud as good a right to go to college as Samuel Ledyard, and the faculty be ing independent of both, would recieve the for mt as readily as the latter. The thought that Stephen was to be classsmate with Ledyard was revolting to the pride of the Judge and his aristocratic son, but determining that Samuel should have no intercourse with Stephen and trusting that the great wealth of Ledyard would exalt the former in the good esteem of the faculty and students over the latter,lie was sent to Cambridge, and entered the class with Stephen. During their four years residence at college Samuel adhered strictly to his determination to have no intercourse with poor Stephen Le Fo rest, the laborer’s son. To his fellew students he professed to know the thing and knew him onlv t > despise his poverty and obscurity. The prodigality of Samuel was proverbial in the col lege. and more than one instance his violation of principle and neglect of studies, subjected him to the reprimand of the President. Stephen pursued the even tenor of his way, attended to his studies recited his lessons well, and by his amiable and unpretending- deportment, acquired the good will of the better part of the students and the approbation of others. He was prudent in his expenditures, and by keeping school during the vacations earned near ly enough to pay his college bills. When the tour years were out aud the class was to be gra duated, Stephen had the first part ofthe exercises assigned him while Samuel was hardly noticed. These arrangements were dissatisfactory to the 1 ,edyards but they could not be altered. Stephen left the stage applauded by the vast crowd of spectators, while Samuel’s performance enga ged no expressions from audience but those of iisgust. After leaving college, both Samuel and Ste phen were placed in a studious situation to pre par- fertile bar. In due time Stephen was ad mitted to practice, and opened an office in the village of his nativity. Samuel's father dying about this time he abandoned his legal studies presuming that business would he unnecessary to him—sogreat was the inheritance left him by his father. For -ome years he made it his only businesss to dash about in stalely pride, expen ding what he regarded as the inoxhaustable rich es, left him by his father. Time however pro ved his mistake. Before prodigality anddispu t-uion, “riches took to themselves wings and flew away.” The gambling table made fatal inroads upon his property. He saw Stephen il iiiiishing in his profession and despised him —for though in the course of a few years Stephen had accumulated more property than Uamuei had remaining, still it was a circum -tan-.e sufficiently damning in his view of the firmer and sufficiently honorable in bis view of himself, that Stephen was the son of Le Forest the -arponter, and he was the so i of Ledyard, the judge. In ten years Samuel had not a cent’ remain i jo. II itrussed by creditors, and having too much pi',.'**! to stand in his bumili itiori before Steohen, now’ a man of wealth and influence, he ! fft nis native village and entered some petty officer o i board of a ."hip the navy. Here Jijs (jabits were Ml h as < “'gsod him to I e cash- ( iered, and he was dismissed from the service in disgrace. In the mean time by industry and perseve rance, the joiner’s son rose to eminence in his profession. Before Ledyard entereil the Navy, Ie Forest stood at the head of the bar in the country about the time ofSamuel’s leaving the service in disgrace', Stephen was appointed to the same honorable office which the senior Led vard had formerly held. Since that time Sam uel Ledyard has been sentenced to the State Penitentiary for his crimes where he remained a miserable object of pity when 1 last heard from him. These are tiicts substantially from real life. The names only are ficticious. They seem to show how that the wheel of fortune in a free country will carry the meritorious upwards while it precipitates the profligate into the ruins ; below. We have not thought to adorn the tale by any fanciful enibehshments. The desire not to tell a long storv has compelled us to leave but studied descriptions. We were present at the trial of Ledyard. Le Forest was the presiding Judge on the bench —and when his duty called him to pronounce upon the unhappy criminal, we saw the tear steal down the manly cheek of the judge, and ; his voice faltered as he gave utterance to the dread language of the law. For ourselves, we could not so well command our passions. We | thought of the past, and looked on the present, | .and wept. How could we help it? Oh that youth in every circumstance would learn that “pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall,while he that humblethhiniseif shall be exalted.”— Eastern Taper. From thr .Vfir- York’ Constellation. ESQUIRING. Stuck round w ith titles." — Pope. Sir, —Going a few days since to the post of fice in our town to get my newspaper, I was informed that there was alse a letter for me; and handed me one which, on reading the super scription, l perceived was directed to Andrew | Hawbunck, Esq. “This can’t be for me,” said I—“It is direct reeled to one Sqttire Hawbunck.” So I hand ed it back, and was going away, when the post master called me back, and insisted upon my j taking the letter and paying the postage, which was one-oad-.sixpence. “Would you have me to take another man’s letter?” said I. “You can see well as I it’s not for me. My name is plain Andrew Hawbunck.; I never was Squired in my life, and never de sire to be. They did once talk of making me a Justice of Peace, but I was off—l would’nt accept but Mr. Postmaster, that letter must be for some other man; and I have no idea of bur ning my fingers by breaking open another man’s letter.” “But there’s no other man of your name in town,” said he. therefore it must he you; so you need’nt be under no apprehensions about breaking open another man’s letter. At all events I’ll stand in the gap and save you from: all harm.” In a word he urged me so much that I paid J for the letter, and broke the. seal. I found it j was in reality for me, and that it was from a printer, urging me to nay for a newspaper which I had paid for six moiitlis bcfoicj l-it tlic mo ney, I suppose, owing to some limit in the post office, never got as far as New York. This is certainly a groat vexation, to be dunned for mo ney I had already- paid but nothing to that of being called Esquire. I showed the letter to my wife, and would you think it! she was in raptures at the new ti tle 1 had got, declaring that she would w illingiy pay for the newspaper over again, for the sake of having me called Esquire. She thought I deserved it as well as my neighbors. I threw the letter into the fire and called her an old fool, for being pleased with a silly, emp ty, unmeaning title, “Ifit meant anything.” said I, “it would’nt be stuck on to every body’s name; and if it does’nt mean any thing, why then tisn’t worth having.” In England, I understand the title of Esquire is given to every man that has a landed income of2oo pounds a year; and in this country I can recollect when it was only attached to lawyers and justices of peace. It had some meaning, then. But now its given to Tom, Dick, and Harry, and there is no meaning to it. Every whippersnapper is called Esquire. Theres Tom Jones, the tinker, Esq. Peter Grievous the grave-digger, Esq. Daniel Huggins, the ditcher, Esq. Simon Snapdragon, the horse doctor, Esq. Patrick Mulligen, the pedlar, Esq. And John Scraper the scavenger, Esq. In short there is no end to Esq’s now-a-days. Every body is Esq. if you may judge from the superscriptions of letters. There cannot be less than two or three milli ns of Esq’s in the United States.—What are the British titles, compared with all these ? To be sure, your Dukes your Marquises, your Earls, your Vis counts, your Barons, your Dons, and other high titles in Europe, sound more loftily than the humble title of Esq. and confer more honor on the possesor.—But then all this difference is more than made up in the everlasting number of Esq's we have in this plain, simple republican country. Now, for my part, I am nothing more or less than a plain farmer, and I hope an honest one. I make it a rule never to say what I do not mean, and I wish others to do the same by me. It is the only correct grammer as I take it. I do not desire to be Esquired, noi addressed by any title that does not belong to me. It is dis honest, and a great impropriety of speech. There is my neighbor Jenkins, we always call him Lieutenant Jenkins. It’s a name he’s gone by these fifty years; and it’s all right j enough for he was a lieutenant in the old Revo- 1 lutionarj army. And then again there’s my j neighbor Winrow, we always call him Corporal; and it’s all perfectly right, for he likewise fought the British in the Revolution, and did some where earn the title of corporal, which was con ferred on the spot. And so of a great many others ofthe heroes of those times that tried men’s souls. They came honestly by their ti tles. But this tacking Esq. to every body’s name Idr think is most rcdiculotts and ccnlcmnpti ble. I would sooner be a ptippy and have a tin kettlo tied to mv tail than to have it tacked to every two-legged puppy in tho country. In fine, I have written to the editor that tack ed Em;, to my names to have my paper stopped. I will not encourage a man who attempts (as we say in our country,) to “rub me down w ith soft soap;” and l will have this a warning to all editors, not to do the like again. Now Sir, please send me your paper; hut re collect, if you ever presume to Esq. tne that mo ment I stop your paper.—With this rod in pick le, I subscribe myself, Your friend and well wisher, ANDREW HAWBUNCK. Jacob’s first offence. —Having occasion one day last summer to look into Judge King’s Court, to find a lawyer who, we learned, had, like ourselves, made at that moment his first appearance in that place for several years, we found the court occupied with sentencing cer tain criminals, against whom the jury of peers had pronounced the verdict of guilty. One af ter another, his honor despatched the motley group of black, white and grey, who were con gregated in the prisoners’ box some were to serve the public two years, some for one year, and others for a few months, according to the legal distinction of their various misdoings; and each heard in silence his sentence, and looked all submission, as if he felt that if all was known, the punishment WGuld have been doubled. This silence, we have remarked, is the attribute of the prisoners’ oox. The bold and reckless are silent because they would brave all consequen ces; the timid speak not, because they are tim id. When the whole array of culprits in the box had been disposed of, we looked for a move ment of the people towards the door; but instead of that, attention was directed to an individual sitting on a bench at the right of the prisoners’ box. Changing our position, we had a full view of him, and we will now attempt a sketch of his person. The man was about 75 years of age, and bore those marks upon his visage which deno ted that labor and exposure had aided time in his work. As he sat, his body leaned forward to an angle of about 45 degrees: his right hand was resisting on a staff, and in his left, hut ly ing on a bench, was a bag. His dress was of the most ordinary kind, his beard had not that length which adds dignity to age, nor was it suf ficiently short to denote any recent attention to personal comforts; a few stray white hairs were hanging straight down from under a coarse cap,! with which his head was covered. Recent con- j fincment had given more than a common pale- ; ness to his visage, and unusual dimness to his eye. “Jacob,” said the Judge, in a tone in which feeling for the age and wants of the prisoner had evidently obtained the mastery over the sterness of justice—“ Jacob, you have been found guilty of stealing a quantity of poultry.” Jacob turned his dim eye towards the Judge, and slowly shook his head, while his fingers played nervously upon his bag and cane. “ The jury has pronounced you guilty,” again said the Judge, in a tone which conveyed a doubt whether the poor old man understood the , natuvn \f k’,< oitnatien “I heard them,” said Jacob, “though I never intended to steal from any man, whatever my wants may have been, and they have been ma ny and pressing—l never intended to take what was not my own. I have lived 75 years in the same neighborhood,—and—and” Jacob had ev idently lost the thread of his remarks, he look ed about as if to catch some hint by which to he enabled to proceed,but he was unsuccessful; he. shook his head again, and cast his eyes upon the floor. “The court,” said the Judge, in a tone of kindness, “have considered the circumstances of your case and pronounced the following sen tence.”— “Sentence—sentence,” said Jacob rapidly, as he again gazed on the Judge; “sentence—l have labored for a family, I have fought for the country, I have paid taxes for the state, and I am now J> be sentenced. IVho is he that can say thut Jacob ever wronged him in 75 years? I appeal,” continued he, in a low, trem bling voice, “ I appeal to Frederick G and William , who were boys and men with me, whether I have been charged with a crime—let them speak for me.” “They are both dead,” said the officer. “Dead?” said the old man, “Yes.” “So they are—l had forgotton—they have been dead these ten years. But no man dead or alive, ever heard me accused of wrong doing till this charge was made; and what had I to do with the fowls?—l could have lived without them, or at least I could have died without them —I needed not to steal them. Steal! I did not steal them.” Again Jacob seemed to forget his subject; he talked on incoherently, until he seemed wea ry, when the Judge again prepared to pronounce the sentence. “ I would call some of my relations,” said Jacob* “ but that I now remember that they are dead also—they are all dead.” When he was again silent, the Judge said to the officer “take the old man to the prison and let him wail there thirty days, (the shortost time allowed by law for hi* offence) and let there be endorsed on the committal, an order for him to be admitted to the Alms House as soon as the 30 days are passed.” Jacob rose when the officer approached him, but it was evident that he had paid hut little at tention to the sentence. He took up his bag, and as he was moving out of the court room, he muttered, “sentence—l did not steal.” He raised his eyes to the crowd that were gazing upon him —a slight hectic flush passed over his visage—he repeated, “ but they are all dead,” and then began his journey to the prison. For more than 70 years, it seemed, that Ja cob had mingled with society, man a>y! hoy; ha had been known as honest; no temptation had caused him to swerve from the track of duty, and he had grown and grew old, with none to gam say his credit. Childhood’s sunny years, the long eternity of boyhood, youth’s gay sallies, and mans sober occupations, had all come and gone, and Jacob had passed through all un scathed by serious censure, unmarked by pre mediated guilt—and on the very threshold of his coffin, slipping as it were into his grave, with almost four score years upon him, in an unguarded hour, he made shipwreck ot his whole voyage, and, in sight ot port, sunk into infamy. Do parents, do gurdians see nothing in Ja cob’s late his only error, upon which to build a caution for their offspring and their charge? We all, it is hoped, hedge about our children with constant precept and wholesome example, and fix their influence by earnest prayer. And we should make them act from principle. We should make honesty not a policy, not a calcu lation, but a first movement, the instinctive feel ing and prompting, ofthe mind; and this must come from care —long continued watchings— I habitual watchings. This year or this lustra ; may pass in safety, temptations may assail in ; vain, and we may look back on half a century ! of unsullied life, and thank God that we are not as other men; but when the pride of a good j standing fails us, when our outwards relations are less fair, when the strong incentives to good j from our various connexions cease, all must j then depend upon a fixed, a safe and sure prin- j ciples of right. We are not always safe; even the “attendant spirit” of good which each of us hath to watch over and guard us, seems sometimes to have closed the eye, or to have lifted it towards a higher power—it is not on us, and we fail.— \U. S. Gas. J 1 Quaker’s letter to liis Watchmaker. —l herewith send thee my pocket clock which greatly standeth in need of thy friendly correc tion ; the last time he was at thy friendly school he was no ways reformed, nor even in the least benefited thereby ; for I percieve by the index of his mind, that he is a liar and the truth is not in him; that his motions are wavering and irre gular, that his pulse is sometimes quick betok eneth not an even temper ; at other times, he waxeth sluggish, notwithstanding I frequently urge him ; when he should be on his duty, as thou knowesthis name denoteth,l find him slum bering and sleeping—or, as the vanity of human reason phrases it, I catch him napping. Hence I am induced to believe he is not right in the in ward man.—Examine him thcrelore, and prove aim, I beseech thee, thoroughly, that thou may est, by being well acquainted with his inward frame and disposition, draw him from the error of his ways; and show him the path wherein he should go. It grieves me to think,and when I ponder thereon, I am verily of opinion that his body is foul, and the whole mass is corrrupted. Cleanse him, therefore, with thy charming phy sic, from all pollutoin, that he may vibrate, and circulate according to truth. I will place him a few days under thy care, and pay for his board as thou requirest it. I entreat thee, friend John, to demean thyself on this occasion with a right judgement according to the gift which is in thee, and prove thyself a workman that need not be ashamed. And when thou layesttho correcting hand on him, let it bo without passion, lest thou drive him to destruction.—Do thou regulate his , motion for time to come, by the motion of the light that ruleth the day, and when thou findest him converted from the error of his ways, and more comformable to the above mentioned rules, do thou send him home, with a just bill of char ges, drawn out by the spirit of moderation, and the root of evil shall be sent unto thee. THE WESTERN HERALD AURARIA, GEORGIA, JUNE 18, 1833. [CJ” We are authorized to anounce the name of Maj. JOEL CRAWFORD, ofHancock county, for Governor, at the ensuing Election. —:&Z2gZ:— Our County Site. —Some difficulty arose a few days since, between the Justices of the Inferior Court, and the individual, from whom they purchased the lot on which the county town is about to be located. There seemed to be a misunderstanding in relation to the contract be tween them, and it Was rumored for a while that the sel ler had wholly refused to make titles, which report we have no doubt has been busily circulated. There has been an amicable adjustment of the difficul ty. The court |has a good and sufficient title to the lot and the sale will take place as advertised. There is yet as might be expected some dissatisfaction on the part of the people in relation to the selection made by the court, though we hope they will so far t be removedjas to prevent any injury that otherwise might be done the county, by keeping the people in longer suspense upon the sub ject. -••aeae:- Tht proposed amendment of the Constitution. —Suchis the importance of correct action upon the part of the people in this matter,that we will take the liberty of suggesting the propriety of a county meeting, upon the subject at some convenient time, confidently believing that if the people can be correctly informed upon this subject, that they will do justice to themselves, and honor to their country, by a firm and manly rejection of the proposition so well calcu lated to stir up strife, discord, and discontent, sq unpleasant to them and so dangerous to the country. —■2&&.’■- Union. There is something in the attractive power of names, that sometimes so closely rivets an erroneous n _ j ciple upon the community, particularly the - unsuspecting, that we frequently find majority, dispos ed to follow the sound of an en-Unting name, and biding ; defiance to principle, no blatter however important it may j be to sustain them. And it is f requont , y the caße in country, that w e see men whoare ambitious parasites of power, in order to effect the purposes of their selfish de signs, endeavoring to manufacture names for their own “Sgrandisement, and ingenously, and sometimes grossly, misapplying them to particular individuals, places or par ties, to enable them, under the influence of misapplica tion or misrepresentation to effect their object; no matter how dangerous, or how base the purposes intended to be effected. I Such we find to be Uie case in Georgia at present , ; the nemo of Union. If it was the object of those ‘ l endeavoring to march into power, under the j Union, to act up to what we understand to be t|, signification of the word, wo would endeavor, even 1 small sacrifice, to initiate into their band, and them in the support of an object, which we would ceive so desirable. We understand that union J concord, conjunction, or in plainer English, to join common cause, and to act in perfect harmony i n „ M thing, to promote the interest, welfare and .uture p tos J f ity of all whoare joined together, whether the joinders, 3 sists of individuals, counties, or communities. The of the several States which creates this confederacy, ~ formed for the purpose of protection from invasions out, and insurrections within. And hence it is, the name is powerful, and well calculated to carry jn that sortof influence and strength, which may in (l , prove dangerous to the government; should the name i, so grossly misapplied, as it is now attempted to be byj, ? late Clark prrty in Georgia. It will be noticed by all have given any attention to the passed political events J this state, that this disappointed, ambitious party, lately seized upon the recent unfortunate difficulty Sy tween South Carolina, and the General fit occasion for triumph on their part m the state, to and fix upon their opponents, those principles, whiclrliti? long since been rejected by alarge majority of the and to effect which, they have laid hold of the nams J union, and misapplied its meaning from that of a imtw ( * the part of the states, in one common cause, in order 0 enable them to repel invasions or suppress insurrection,; and are now useing it as a scourge upon the for the purpose of bringing them in subjection to suppu” | their favorite men for office, and thereby get anothfi sweep at the Treasury, which always seem to be m® ■ desirable to them, than any principle now is, or ever It 3! split them from their opponents. Wc would like to as 3 them, after assuming to themselves a name (no matte 3 how arrogant in that assumption) act np to the sew understanding and lileral meaning of that name. Botitl I so with these people, are they for a general union of tj, 1 people ofthe states. Iftheyare, and wilt go right, Keti i unite with them. Are thev for a union of the several state i allow us our reserved rights, and we go with them. But; T as we believe, all these great union meetings, and 100, : union speeches, about which there is so much said byfo M self-styled union party in Georgia, are only intended toe ; feet the aggrandizement of a few would be great men fr* the state, who have been rejected for want ofcorrect piio i ciples and merit, to entitle them to a share of the “ lovell and fishes;” we will not be gulled into their support, tv -! themselves what they will, and if we had to give thenu | name, and disposed to <fo them justice, would never tiiiii 1 of union, as it is by no means appropriate to them, furtke 3 than the toiion of their party influence extends, which! f not beyond the limits of the state. From the firm and W -t manner in which they acted in 1825, resorting to allma i surcs against the best interests of the wast- Vi tempting, and effectually did stand up, against John k Adams at their back, in support of her rights in establish ing, and making valid a treaty with the Creek Indians for their claim to lands within our state, we shoui judge that almost any name would be more appropriates > them than union. Wo, must confess that we are very pat ‘? tial to the name of union, and we shall give it up rclut tantly, when compelied to yield it to any who are unft- | serving of its honors; hut if it is to be made Ihe politrin 1 hobby for men to ride into office on, (as we have none’ ri 1 that sort of ambition to gratify ourselves) they mat: if they will style themselves the Union party ii | Georgia; but we know not why or wherefore it should k,l on the present occasion. From the Augusta Chronicle. ii OUTBID, The “Superintendent of a Mighty Workshop would give employment to a few efficient opei-. ators. “I have a great ninny things to do, anc finding it necessary to take one at a time, I so lect the most important one first, and when tk is disposed of I take up the next,” &c. Hav ing to labor so much personally, “ my health i bad, but my spirits and confidence are firm arj unshaken.” “My auxiliaries are few and fee ble” “and purely and exclusively selfish.” “IS have not a solitary competent and regular advi ser.” To be sure, I have a great many wbt i obtrude their advice upon roe; but they are tot i feeble and incompetent far me to listen to, when as you see, I have taken upon myself, to tel! the President; and Mr. Cass, the Secretary and , War, if they want any thing done with tit Cherokees, in the shape of a communication, tc 4 let me give the red brethren a talk; for I can do better than the “great Father” himself So I think it ridiculous for such strikers as are about Milledgeville, to be telling me what to do. Liberal wages will be given to such as are noi “purely selfish,” and altogether incompetent, and feeble-, and who will go the “whole hog” for my aggrandizement, right or wrong,, and come prepared to watch the breeze, and fol low it, no matter whether it sets for Union, Nul lification, Consolidation, or State Rights. For further particulars please not to enquire of the Editor of the Chronicle, whose paper 1 no longer “read with increased interest,” but at the “Mighty Workshop.” P. S—“l shall not ape Troup.” FOH THE WESTERN HERALD. ii (DiitEtiDv •TO THE “ SUPERIN'S ENDANT OF i THE MIGHTY WORKSHOP.” I see a card of yours the Chronicle of the Bth inst., in which you give notice, that von wish to employ a few efficient operators. lam wanting business, and am, or in other words, may be made just whatever you would please *.') have me, and if the great father should con sent for you to give the red children a talk, I am here among them, and can do the talking for you. In taking upon myself the many ne cessary privations, such as want of firmness and decision, with a total disregard for truth, and the enjoyment ot my own opinions until the tide of public sentiment is ascertained, in order to make you a faithful servant, which I shall deavour to do under every and all circumstance., to insure liberal wages, which will be as desira ble to me, as popularity now is, or ever was to you, even in your most wheel-about and time serving days. lam not selfish, incompetent, or feeble. I will jjo the whole hog and a quar ter of beef, out here for, your aggrandizement