Newspaper Page Text
from tin- Oi.n> Statesman.
THE ANSWER fF TWENTY-EIGHT
.METHODISTS TO THE DEV. DIE
IIA SCO.MB’S CERTIFICATE OF
MU. CLAY’S MORALITY.
\V!iy is’il tliat so rauclj sensibility is ex
cited ? Why such holy horror munilested.''
Why so much flattering heard anion;* the
partisan presses throughout the length
and breadth of the land, when the moral
ity of a candidate for the most exalted
station \\ uliin the [lower of the people to
confer on any man is made the subject of
legitimate inquiry ? Is it because that
people are to bo debarred the privilege o!
investigation into the life and conduct ol
die man who seeks elevation at their hands;
or are they required, by ; fiftvlingand sub
sidized press, blindly to intrust their des
tinies into the handsofail individual whose
deeds they arc denied the right to scruti
nize?
A virtuous man fears no scrutiny into
his conduct—he invites investigation—re
quires no endorsers, however strict 'die
ordeal may be—requires n<> partisan press
to sustain him, or to do “the bidding ol
the master’s band.” If, on the other hand,
“all is not right in Denmark”—if ins Mi*
has been passed in vicious and immoral
tic's, in violation of the laws of God and
man—if the fabric be not pure and un
stained, and cannot sustain itself—she
flood-gates of abuse and recrimination are
opened, and lavished tbiih with a relent
less hand; certificates are “ manufactured
to order,” to delude the people, and* to
bolster up a sullied reputation; and even
ministers of the gospel lorsakc their sacred
calling, and are persuaded to venture in
to the political arena, and by their en
dorsement to prop the character of a man
whose life (and we speak knowingly) has
been one continued scene of vice and im
morality from his earliest manhood to a
decayed old age.
How w;ts the moral and n ligious world
a lounded when the certificate of the Rev.
I)r. 11. B. Bascotn, which so recently ap
peared, was heralded Ibrih by a licenti
ous press, ea having the character of thud
man whose name li as been a by-word
among his own brethren for years past,
carrying along with it, not the faintest ev
idence of morality and virtue, but, on the
other hand, associated hv them with all
the prevailing vices which characterize
the world! v and tit?: vicious man.
We would fir his sake—we would for
the sake of that churi li of which he is a
bright ami shining ornament —we would,
as his brother, Ibr thesttlcc of that religion
which he professes, and f>rllie sake ol
that reputation which lie has hitherto sus
-1 aided us a candid and conscientious man
—cover this last act with an impenetrable
v» ii, and hide it in oblivion, never thence
to 1m; brought forth and reckoned again.-t
him. But there is a duly, an imperative
one, which we owe to ourselves, to our
children, lo*our church, our religion, ami
our country, which no personal consulta
nt ion must shake, and from the di charge
of which we must neither fuller nor depart,
even when the name of the T’ev. 11. li.
iiascnm is opposed to us. Uis liesli in
the minds and remembrance of the whole
country, that a letter was addressed by
Dr. J. (I. Goble to the Rev. 11. 1). iias
enm, with the inquiry, “ whether t!.e
charges preferred against the lion. Hen
ry Clay, of being a sabbath breaker, a
profane swearer and gambler, were cor
rect or not.” Now mark the reply of the
Rev. Mr. Bascotn to the charges: “I
have been in intimate and co.i/ident'ud inter
coarse with the Hon. Henry Clay, in jai
cate r md yub/ic life for more than tieenty years .
and know the charges enumerated in your
letter against the private character of Mr.
Clay to be nltaly anil bu rly fdsc. Rlr.
Clay does not belong to the church, hut in
view of the ordinary accredited principles ol
good moral character, no cluirge can be
brought against him without violating the
obligations of truth and sound justice ; ami
to each and erera charge in your letter, I
return for an answer, dial l regard them,
one and all , shamefully unjust, because
not trve , cither in whole, or in port."
The reverend (lector sweeps the platter
—goes the whole figure, without excep
tion or reservation ; and, in this w holesale
denial, can arrogate to himself the credit,
at least, of going further and stronger in
denying these charges, than any man ol
any size, sort, description, or cloth, has
ever ventured to go. He strikes the cur
rent, and leaves himself no chance of
swimming to land, hut a fair one of sink
ing before Ire gets even in sight.
This wonderful certificate covers the
ground of Mr. Clay’s morality “ in whole,’’
and not “ in part,” for twenty years and
more; and to that period, so embraced,;
we. shall respond, and take the doctor's
“intercourse, so intimate and confidential,
otiblic and private,” and no more.
Every reader of the paragraph refer
ring to the doctor’s public intercourse
with Mr. Clav, would very naturally infer
that he had held, for “twenty years and
more,” some public station under the go
vernment, and, consequently, was placed
in a situation to know that these charges
were utterly 'and basclv false. But the
public will be as naturally very much sur
prised to learn that the reverend gentle
man’s public life is comprised not “ in
twenty long years and more, 4 ’ but in the
•nortnous short space often short months !
in the capacity of chaplain of the low er
House of Congress.
Os the reverend doctor, Mr. Clay has
ever been- a qwu patron, and was his sup
jrorter tivthat office; and if the report of
that day be true, backed his claims to that
office with the somewhat novel hut singu
lar reconim« ndation, “ that he could pro
duce a preacher who could preach them
all to hell and hack again.” That argu
ment was irresistible to members—the
r*-v«-f'-!; l doctor was bar ked against Ka
iin; Mr. Clay endorsed for him then ; the
/# was efi cit'd ; and he, not forgetful
•/' j/m* Uvors, an 1 cherishing a very coni*
, A , I,o w back Mr.Glay,
l* Is ii to die full extent,
*-'jt trtt-f *' To*.- d's !<>r pieaeli*
- - iir- 4 f* i 4i( wli»iter Ik*
quite came up to the letter, or tilled the
;measure ol die recommend.ition, we re
gret to say history does not now aflord to
us llie slightest record. When the doctor
counts again, he will, doubtless, discover
that ten months are not “twenty years
land more.”
Take the doctor’s statement as true to
the letter—grant that he was “in inti
mate ami confidential public inteicourse”
with Mr. Clay for “ twenty years ami
more,” and then ask him how* lie Lane
that Mr. Cl.iv neither “desecrated the
Sabbath, profanely swore, nor gambled”
in that lime? Washout Mr. Clay’s el
bow all the lime? When he was preach
ing in the halls of Congress, docs he know
that Mr.Clay was not desecrating tin holy
day elsewhere ? Was he hv the side ol
Mr. Clay day and night, so us to La r: that
he neither swore nor gambled. All men
would suppose that a minister oi tliegos
oel would be the last mail “invited to
such an entertainment,” to witness the
gaming on which Mr. Clay slaked his
thousands, av, even during the doctor’s
brief tenure of public station. And yei
the doctor knows that Mr. Clay did not
gamble, or swear, m‘ break the Sabbath.
But tiie scene is shifted. The Ultimate
and confidential public intercourse oi
“twenty years anil more,” closes in ten
months; lint ihe “private one” is still
maintained with so much fidelity that the
reverend doctor is enabled to “know,”
.and does know, and affirms that he does
positively and unequivocally “know” that
Mr. Clay never swore, nor gambled, nor
broke the Sabbath, from tin 1 beginning of
1 1 io “twenty years or tiuue,” up to the
“Dili day of July, IMI, the date of his
certificate. Now, unless the countiy is
willing to admit that the reverend gentle-
man is endowed with übiquity, that, by
some supernatural agency, he is enabled
in “know” what Mr. Clay is doing in
Washington City at all hours ol the da\
and night, on the Hays ol the week, and
on the Sabbath, when the, reverend gen
tleman is some hundreds ol unit’s distant,
they certainly do not lor foil their claims
to common charily, when they question
very much whether the doctor docs
“ know” with as much certainly as he
professes to affirm in his certificate* or en
dorsement, and justification id Mi . Clay’s
claims to that morality with which he is
so ready to invest him. lint to proceed
with tiie doclor’s ow ii history alter the
close of in “public life and intercourse.’
Ills tenure of office abruptly ceases, and
he becomes an itinerant preacher, travel
ling through the length and breadth oi the
land, and never having an opportunity ol
preaching to Mr. (.'lav, or touching at any
point where he passed his lime more than
once in several years, until lie settled
down, and became connected with the
college at Augusta, a town distant about
000 miles from Washington city, where
Mr. Clav -pent the greater portion ol his
time, and aitoul 100 miles from Lexing
ton, the place ol Mr. Clay’s residence.
Under this state of liicts, wo respectful
ly propound the question to the doctor,
:lmw lie could keep up an intercourse so
ii.ti>afc and eoiji dmtiaf, at these respec
tive di lances, as to “know,” and to as
sert to the world that he does “know,”
dial these charges are “basely and utter
ly lalse” “ in w hole and in pail,” and
iconsequently, to follow out the doctor’s
most decorous and Christian vocabulary,
that he who asserts the contrary “lies
tno t liuillv in his throat,” Wc tell the
doctor, were he to state personally to Mr.
U 'lay’s associates in Washington city ot in
Lexington the contents ol his certilicalo,
and appear to do it in sober seriousness,
they would either regard it as a pleasant
joke of his v or an attempt to impose on
tlicit credulity. The reverend doctor has
about an equal chance ol “ knowing”
’whether these charges arc true or false, as
the I’opc of Rome has of personally know
ing the moral ly of the Russian Czar. —
But to render certain the Rev. Dr.’s
means of “knowing” that Mr. Clay is a
line bed specimen <-i morality—that vir
tue claims him as her favorite and espe
cial ad vocate and [inttcrn —lie is heralded
Uiulh as the renowned president ol Tran
sylvania University, and thereby an at
tempt is made to delude the people with
the idea t!«u lie lias occupied licit station
for a considerable length ol time. Such
is not the fat t. lie has been a resident of
Lexir.f ton scarce two years, out of “ the
twenty years and more” through till ol
which this “ intimate and confidential in-
tcrcou’rse” has been maintained in all its
puilty, uninterrupted and tmbiokeu, dis
tance and separation to the contrary not
withstanding. And has not the liev.
Dr.’s fiith in Mr. Clay, as the embodiment
of all virtue been shaken at any time du
ring the lapse of this “ twenty’ yars and
more,” or arc his ideas of morality isola
ted, and peculiar only to himself ? Does
lie not “ know” that scarce three months
ago (Icnerul McCalla, of Lexington, an
elder of the Presbyterian church of that
city, a mail w ithout spot or blemish, (who
has been hunted down by Mr. Clay him
self—a v, even by all the ours which so
throng ids kennel there, and tor what.'
1 ecause lie dared to lift the curtain whii h
concealed the defi>rni iv, and to publish
to the world one of those very charges
which, in the face of nvoi whelming evi
dence, and not denied, this reverend doc
tor now pronounces 44 utterly and basely
false,”) published in a paper there “that
this verv same Mr. Clay, oil the 4th day ol
July, 1840, at a public barbecue two miles
from Lexington, gambled high, and won,
from the very friend w hom he conveyed
to the giound in his own carriage, a con
siderable sum of money,” and proffered to
prove the charge if denied by the gentle
men who played at the table, and by a
host ol ids political friends and neighbors.
Was the charge denied ? Did any of
the ti limits ol the kennel, or Mr. Clay
liiiustlf, inter the fit i files l shadow of deni
al? Did either of Mr. Clay’s certificate
makers ol the recent occurrence at Ihe
• Hue Lu k Springs, (w ho, bv-ih’-bv, were
both present, u« wean informed, al hat
when this game at the barbecue was play
ed, when th** friend s [Mickets were relic
veil »»f i licit “small change,”) then, it two-:
licited an ! unasked, step forward and cer
tify dial Mr. Clay did no “ gambling” then
and there'/ ;
Silence, profound silence, was the
watchword passed from the chief to his
satellites, and silence it was. They were
afraid to deny the charge which Gen. Mc-
Calla made and could prove by fifty un
willing witnesses of his own parly.
And has the reverend gentleman slept
over all this? He “knows” the charge
was made, that proof was offered, but
none was challenged ; and yet he “knows”
that Mr. Clay does not ‘ gamble,’ and pro
claims die charge to tiie world as “basely
and utterly false,” under the sacred sanc
tion of the written word of a minister ot
the gospel.
Once more. Let the reverend gentle
man go to Ashland, and ask the man
whom he so boldly and recklessly endor
ses whether the beautiful picture ol the
“ Welshwoman,” which decorates the
wall of its dining-hall, was not won at the
gaming-table ! Let him descend horn his
throne of Transylvania, and ask this same
“ eailxMlimeiil” ot till the attributes ol vir
tue and morality, whether the still more
beautiful picture of the “ Bouquet ol Flow
ers,” which meets the eye as you enter
the drawing-room ot that stately mansion,
was not staked against with money and
won .0 the same place ol vice and depra
vity !
Let him not leave that mansion until he
make the still more portentous inquiry of
tins sage of Ashland’s shady groves, (who
once backed him against Satan, and whom
he now hacks as the purest and the best,)
whether iie did not propose, at the same
place of iniquity, to put up a high stake
against the picture ot the \ iugin Maky,
and to play at cards for the picture ol Tin:
Mother of oca Saviour ! Ask him
again, most reverend doctor, whether the
proposition was not made to the Hon. A.
(!., of New York, and what was the reply
—whether it was not that “ the picture of
die Mother of oca llei>eemku was not
obtained by gambling, and that he could
not gamble it off.”
Let these questions Ik: asked and an
swered in honesty and truth, and il deni
ed, let the proof lie called for, and then,
sir, you may he placed in a situation to
“ know” whether the charge of “gambling
is utterly and basely false,” or whether it
stands written in imperishable characters
against die man whom you attempt to
sustain and endorse, “ the public and pri
vate, intimate and confidential intercourse
of 2‘) years and more,” with a hlilion il
proof of yom’certificate to the contrary
notwithstanding. Was this intimate and
confidential intercourse still kept up by
you, doctor, when Clay left his home to
ii ivel to Louisville to the races ? Ay.
even on the race fit.ld ilscll, and to the
locked rooms ol tlie hotel where these
“ moral sjxmls” were finished Ibr the day,
and do you “ know” that Mr. Clay did not
l»et bigli on tlie race field, and gamble
high at the hotel? Were you so “ inti
mate and confidential’’ with your honora
ble friend when be was travelling up and
down the river on steamboats, and you at
home, by your own fireside, as to know
that he did not descend from that pinnacle
ol morality on which your ready band has
placed him, and kill the lime which hung
heavily on his hands by a resort to the
gentle and very “moral” amusement of
the oaming table; ay, and even forget
that Sunday night had passed away, ami i
the Sabbath bad dawned on “two bullets
and a bragger,” or the “ four honors in his
own hand.” This last is technical lan
guage, doctor; but your “intimate and
confidential intercourse” and association
with Mr. Clay for the long period ol “twen
ty years and more,” may, by this time,
have taught you to understand its legiti
male meaning. And still, doctor, your
honorable friend and patron is the veriest
pink of morality, according lo‘its most
accredited principles,” as taught by our
church and our religion.'
And you “ know,” too, doctor, that Mr.
Clay is no “ Sabbath breaker,” and that
charge, 100, is “ utterly false.” Does your
church and religion teach,or authorize you
“to certify,” that the man who travels to
the races at Louisville on the Sabbath day
does not profane the holy purposes lor
which it was set apart?
Does the Bible, or the sanctity of your
hallowed office as a minister and teacher
of its precept s, instruct you to declare that
man free from the charge of desecration
of that holy day, who, surrounded by
pomp and pageantry and all the circum
stances of a festive occasion, addresses a
crowd on political subjects,amid the shouts
and buzz.is ol an assembled and Sabbat li
bre akin** multitude? And yet, doctor,
you know* that Mr. Clay is “ no Sabbath
breaker,” and is moral to the full extent ol
its “ accredited principles,” and all this is
virtuous, moral, and lawful, and you owe
it to 44 truth and justice and the claims of
society” so todeclare and certify it. And
yon, too, “know,” doctor, that Mr. Clay
is 44 no profane swearer.” Have you nev
er heard it whispered that this same Mr.
IL my Clay so far forgot the dignity of
his station as a grave senator and the sage
of Ashland, and that morality according
to its roost “accredited principles,” ol
w hich you, doctor, certify he possesses so
overflowing and abounding a quantity, as
to say on the floor of Congress to Gov.
Polk, 44 Go home, God damn you, where
you belong?” The charge has been made
by members of Congress who heard the
expression of his infuriate passion; and
neither Mr. Clay nor any of his partisan
presses have ever had the hardihood to
deny tin* charge. And yet you, Doctor,
endorse him and certify that he is no pro
fiuMt swearer, and that you " know” the
liu t, and owe it to “ truth and justice toj
guy so,” and that be who asserts the fact
affirms that which is “ utt< rly and basely
fill*?.”
This rovers the ground of the llev. doc*
toi’.r e< rtifh ale, wliK’h has been so much
extolled and glorified, that a credulous
people would lie very apt to suppose that,
on its “accredited principles,” tin: account
was fully settled beyond all cavilling ami
controversy, and that Mr. Clay, no longer
amenable to the bar of public opinion, hail
received at the Rev. doctor’s bands a re
ceipt in full.
A few words addressed to you, doctor,
in the relations, and with all the kindness,
as rncmliers of the same Christian church,
and we have discharged a duty as unpal
atable to us as it is extraordinary ami un
authorized in you, as a minister of the
church to which we belong, to give cur
rency, and the sanction of that church, by
your name and authority, to a certificate
of “accredited” morality to the duelist,
the profane swearer, the Sabbath breaker,
and the gambler. We know, from belter
testimony than yours can possibly lie, who
never had an oppoitunity of “ kinwing;” j
we know, from the general character in
these particulars, and others which we
could enumerate, that your honorable and
“ moral” friend is guilt}*, has been often
guilt}*, of the charges which you denounce
as utterly and basely false, in whole and
in part, “ in your startling” certificate, au
thorized by you to be proclaimed and pub
lished to the whole as containing “the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but
the truth.” We “know” that the man
whom you have “accredited with swell
pure and unblemished morality, drafted
the unhallowed challenge which hurried
into eternity, scarce six years ago, a de
luded victim to the bloody “codeof hon
or.” We “know” that the man whom (
you herald to the world as one of inflexible,
and “accredited virtue,” has twice stood
forth on the field of blood to uphold that
“code of honor” which defies the laws of
God and man, shooting, in cold blood, at
one antagonist, and desperately wounding
the other, and even now* as reckless and
unrepentant, at the advanced age of near
threescore yeats and ten, standing on the
brink of eternity, and proclaiming to the
world most emphatically, and in dating
and defying language to his God, “that he
cannot foresee what contingency may u-
rise, and tnat lie cannot reconcile it to his
sense .of props irfy, to make a declaration
one way or the other 4 ’ that lie will “do no
murder,” and consign a fellow creature,
with all his sins on his head, unprepared
and unanealed, to meet the frowns of an
angry God. And this is the man, our er
ring brother, but our brother still, whom
you can reconcile it to your sense of “ pro
priety,” as a man professing the principle,
of our holy religion, a teacher of its hallow*,
t and and sacred precepts, to endorse nird
certify as a man of pure and “ accredited”
morality and virtue.
One word for ourselves, and we have
done. We are members of the same po
litical party, which is termed the whig par
ty, believing its principles right and cor
rect ; and w hile w*e participate in the sen
tence expressed at a public meetingin New
Jersey bv our conscientious candidate for
the vice presidency, the Hon. Theodore
Frelinghuysen, “ that all the participators
in the act which cost the life of Gilley (Mr.
Clay included) were murderers,” we
would cheers ully and gladly unite our suf
frages on him,while wc owe il to ourselves,
our country, and our children, never to
uphold or sustain by our suffrages “the
Sabbath-breaker, the profane swearer, the
gambler, or the man of blood.”
TWENTY-EIGHT METHODISTS.
Tiif. Return. —To return after long
years of painful absence to some place wfiich
has been the scene of our former joys, and
whence the force of circumstance, and not
of choice, has driven us, is oppressive to the
heart. There is a mixed sense of regret
and rejoicing, which struggle for predomin
ance ; we rejoice that our term of exile has
expired, hut we regret the years wfiich that
exile has deducted from the brief amount
of human life, never to be recalled,and there
fore as so much lost to us. We think of the
wrong or the caprice of which we have
been the victims, and thoughts will stray
across the most confiding heart, if friends
shall meet as fondly as they parted; or if
time, while impressing deeper marks upon
the outward form, may have obliterated
some impressions icithin. Whohas return
ed, after years’of absence, however assured
of the unflinching fidelity of love he left be
hind, without saying to himself, in the par
donable yearning of affection, ‘Shall I meet
smiles as bright as those that used to wel
come me 7 Shall I be pressed as fondly
within the arms, whose encornpassmcnt
were to me the pale of all earthly enjoy
ment V
Fearful Odds. —Corvisnr, a French
physician of some celebrity during the lat
ter portion of the last century, was once la
menting, in company, the premature death
of Dr. Packer. 4 lt was not at all events
from want of medical aid that he died,’said
ho ; ‘ for, in the last days of his illness, wc,
Halle, Portal, and myself, did not quit him
for an instant.’ ‘Alas !’ interrupted the Ab
be SI eyes, 4 What could he do against three
of you V
How to Get a Feather Bed. —‘ln
carrying off even the small thing of a feath
er bed, Jack Tate, the bowld burglar,
showed the skill of a high practitioner, for
he desceudherod the stairs backwards.’—
‘ Backwards !’ said Larry Hogan, ‘ what’s
that for V ‘You’ll see by ana bye,’ said
Gnoggins; ‘he desceudherod backwards,
when suddenly lie heard a door opening,
and a fay male voice exclaiming, ‘ Where
are you going with that lied T ‘l’mgoing
up stairs with it ma’am,’ said Jack, whose
backward position favored his lie : and lie
began to walk up again. ‘ Come down,’
said the lady ‘ we want no beds here, man.’
‘ Mr. Sullivan, ma'am, sent me home with
it himself,’ said Jack, still mounting the
stairs. ‘Come down, I tell you,’said the
lady, in a great »age, ‘ tliere’s no Mr. Sulli
van lives here.’ ‘I beg your pardon,
ma’am,' said Jack, turning round, and
marching oil with the be I, fair and aisy.—
Well, there was a regular slid 100 in the
house when the thing was (mind out, and
enrt roiies wouldn't Imwld the lady fur the
rage sno was in at being diddled.
Cooke at Live-pool.— Cooke had l»een
|»ia\ mg on a previous occasion, when great
excitement prevailed on account of the agi
tation of the slave-trade abolition question in
Parliament. Cooke fancied himself insult
ed because his benefit had not been equal to
his expectations ; and jiassing in his usual
state by one of the principal coffee-houses,
he beheld several of the merchants assem
bled in the room and vicinity. Shaking his
fist at them, he exclaimed : “ I thank my
God I carry away none of your d—d mon
ey ; every brick in your accursed town is
stained with African blood.” When he ap
peared afterwards on the stage, the hubbub
was indescribable. He attempted to speak,
but was saluted by cries of “ Off, off !” and
a shower of hisses. Silence was at length
restored, and Cooke addressed the andience
in these words : “ Ladies and Gentlemen :
If yo*i will allow mefo go through my part,
I will never disgrace myself by appearing
before you again.” He then retreated to
the side scenes, and said to a party there,
from whom this anecdote is derived, with a
satirical expression of countenance: “ Il’s
the blood —the blood.” The managers ad
vertised him for the next night, with the
same card—Richard the Third and Sir Ar
chy Mac Sarcasm. The signal of his pres
ence was one universal hiss. Cooke ad
vanced to the stage, placing his hand on his
breast with affected humility, waited until
the tumult sulisided, and then entreated
the audience to hear him. “ Had I not
been unfortunately interrupted, ladies and
gentlemen,” said he, m bin blandest accents,
“ my address to you would have been thus:
Ladies and gentlemen, if you will allow me
to go through my part, I will never disgrace
myself by appearing be to re you in the same
1 condition.” The ruse succeeded. “Bravo,
Cooke!” resounded, and he played Richard
with more than his usual energy.
From Tail 8 Mngsi'zine.
THE BON GAULTIER PAPERS.
FU.XEUJL OF CAMPBELL.
Young Scotland. — Pass the wine, O’-
Malley. lias any body seen Coventry
Patmore’s Poems.
Bov Gaultieu. —l have dipped into
them. They are obviously of the right
kind. He has a fine eye for nature, and
tiie poet’s it*; ling that interfuses it
With the still s;iil music ofhuiivniity.
Young Scotland. — 1 am glad that a
new race of poets is springing up. Bar
ring Tennyson, we have nothing vet of
great mark and likelihood. Bat there is
promise and hope; and need there is; Ibr
the ranks of the old singers are dwindled
sorely. Since we last met here, another
has gone to his rest.
Bon Gaultieu. — Poor Campbell! his
voice was all hut bushed, and, for the
worth of what little it did utter, il might'
have been eulirtly silent, for many years.
1 was present <*it his funeral, Charles.
Ycuxe Scotland. —You were? lam
not given to break the tenth command
men!; but 1 enw you. The burial of a
poet in Poet’s eonier is no common sight.
Bon Gaultier—l wish you hail been
there Charles. The sight was one to
have fired your heart. Mv presence was
purely accidental. 1 happened to be down
at Westminster. The passing bell of St.
Margaret’s was tolling} bn* as Idout re
member having ever [Ktsseif thin wav,
without hearing its mournful note, I should
have taken no notice of it, but lor the un
usual crowd moving towards the Abbey.
On enquiry, I found what was going for
ward. As you may believe, I lost no
itime in joining the crowd. I lound the
Abbey filled wit!) spectators of all; ranks.
There, in that silent crowd, stood the high
est t stimuli}* to the poets genius. Some
there were attracted thither, no doubt
merely because a sight was to be seen.
But it was a higher sentiment that fillet I
that hallowed ground; a reverent homage
to him whose words had passed*into their
(hearts, and become not the least noble
portion ot their being. Who would not
be ambitions of such fame ?
Young Scotland.—l see but few Scots
men mentioned as having attended the fu-
I neral.
Bon Gaultier..— Ay, Chailes, there
were but few* mentioned in the newspa
per lists; but amid the nameless throng,
stood with beautiful heart, sonsaiul daugh
ters of the old land not a few. What most
touched me, was to see around me many
an artisan l , in whose features it' was easy
to read the wellknown lineaments of
Scotland, who had snatched a hurried hour
to be present where honour was done to*
the poet of his country. Thither has he
come in his working jacket, rough and rug
ged, but his heart full of pride for the land
that bore him, and Ibr the son that had
spoken worthily of it. Fair faces were
there loo —the light of humble homes—
young wives,-with their infants in their
j arms, to whom they should tell m after
! years, so had he sung, anti for such deserts
tad lie been laid, with honors, in the ho
liest ground within all this-wide- Britain.
Young Scotland. —Would 1 lind been
there!
Bcn Gaultier. —Milman, himself no
mean poet, read tlie service; that service
which may at sometime be listened to
without emotion; but in such a place, and
in such circumstances, how solemn ! As
lie read, the day, which had been lower
ing, grew darker and darker, and when
the requiem mourned along the echoing
roof, and the coffin was lowered into the
earth, a solemn shadow thickened over
the spot, which was made more sad and
solemn, by a wan and sickly beam that
struggled in from a side window. Then
as the mimic thunder of the organ rolled
away, by one of those strange coinciden
ces which aie observed in nature, a low
peal of thunder murmured along the hea
vens without carrying the thought far, far
away from this dim spot of earth to tlic
great unfulhumcd world beyond.
Young Scotland.— Nature is ever the
giealest poet. What are the best of ns
but its poor interpreters? Hut, Beil, •.ure
ly you caught an inspiration from the scene
Bon Gaultier. —As l stood there, lean
ing against Dryden’s tomb, some feelings
[Kissed across my heart, wliit li gathered
ihcmsclvcs into the form of'words, Such
as they are you siisll have them.
HIE INTERMENT OF TIIOM VS C \\n.
BELL. ’-a.mf
L msny “ brokeD wi ‘. h «* «ir of
Hark! Si. Margaret’s bellktiding, but it U n„
common clay, n °
T £^ ,draeW anthem,si,all be laid in
In yon Minster’s hallowed corner, w |, e re il,.
barcis and sages resr, Ult
Is a silent chamber waiting to receive another
guest, ,utr
There is sadness in the heavens, and a veil -
gainst the sun; 11 a "
\\ ho shall mourn so well as Nature wU„ „
poets coursb >s run? a
,A f>'ire of | a " djoi " lllf * , * ers > mtck of heart and
For Ae shadows of the mighty dead are hover
ing o’er us now,
Souls that kept their trust immortal, dwelling
from the herd apart, °
Souls that wrote their noble being deep j nlo a
nation’s heart,
Names that,on great England’s forehead -im
Ihe jewels of her pride.
Brother Scol, lie proud, a brother soon shall slum
ber by their sale 1
Ay, thy cheeks a re flushing redly, tears are crow
ding lo thine eves,
AnA iliy heart like mine, is rushing hack where
Scoliand’s mountains rise;
Thou, like me, hast seen another grave would
suit our jsiei well,
Greenly braided by the bracken, in a lonely Hji.|,
land dell,
Looking on the solemn waters of a mighty inland
sea,
In the shadow of a mountain, where Ihe lonely
eagles tie;
Thou hast seen the kindly heather bloom around
tbs simple- I tell,
Heard ihe loch and torrent mingle dirges fir the
[met dead;
Brother, thou hast seen him lying, as it is ihy
hope to lie,
Looking from the soil of Scotland, up into aSeoi
tish sky!
Il may hi*, such grave were U-tler—belter, rail*
and dew should tail,
Tears of hopeful love lo freshen Nature’s ever
verdant palfi
Beller that the ftnn should kindle on his grave
in golilewsimlesy
Butler lban, in palsied’glimmer, stray alum* these
sculptured aisles;
Belli i after time should lind him, —to his rest in
homage t>ottt*d,—
Lying in ihe land that ho re him, with Its g'ories
piled around !
Such, at least, must be the limey that in such a
time must start,—-
For we love our country dearly—in each burn
ing Sonliisli heart;
\ el a rest so greal, so noble, as awaits the min
strel here,
-Moiig the best ot England’s children, can he Hi
unworthy bier,
Hark! a tush of lee 1! They bear him, —him,
llte :*iMger, to his tomb;
omler what of him is mortal lies Loncalh you sa
ble phone,
Tears along mine eyes are rushing, but ihe prou
dest tents they l*e,
Thai on manly e_.es may gather,—tears, 'mere
never shame lo see;
Tetus that water lofty piirjiose; tears of welcome
to the fame,
Os the hard that hath ennobled Scotland’s dear
and noble name,
Sad er, sadder, let ihe anthem yearn aloft ii»
wailing strain,
Not liir him, for lie is hnppv, but fur us and all
our pain!
Louder, louder, let the organ like a seraph aulhem
roll,
Ilyinningio its home of glory our departed bn*.
I her a soul!
He lias laid hi in down to slumber, to awake hr
Holder trust.
Give his frame lo kindred ashes, earth to earth,
and dust lo dost !
Louder yet, and ycl more lowdlv let the organ’s
thornier rise !
Hark ! a louder thunder answers; deepening a
wards to the'skies, —
lle avoirs ma jestic diapason, pealing on linnr
east to'west,
Never grainier music anthem’d' poet lo'liis home
of rest!
Young Scotland.—l sec and feel il nil
about me,—the Abbey, the crowd, the one
narrow grave,-all thditiftmit lie litre a ma
jestic vision of tile highlands, anil a little
knoll kept ever green’by a bright-eyed
mountain stream. Bon, I thank you for
this stirring of my hear;. You have struck
the true note; a paean of iiiumph, and no
weak wailing fi r death, and the conquest
of this I rail house of clay by the inevitable
Of all poor things, a maudlin mon
ody for ‘ripe fruit seasonably gathered’ is
the poorest.
Bcn Gaultier. —And most especially
out of place lbr one who leaves suc h re
cords ofhis genius behind him. Weep
for crushed hearts and baffled endeavours-
Weep for young livej blighted, weep for
the ‘breaking heart's that will not break,
hut ask not one tear of lamentation for the
poet that passes licncc in the fulness ol lus
years ami his renown.
Ik he dead, whose glorious mind,
Lifts-thine'on high?
To live in hearts ive leave behind,
Is not to die.
KWi'LOYErb-— I They that are in power
slioirltl be extremely cautious to commit the
execution of their plans not only to those
who are able, but to those who are willing.
As servants and instruments, it is the duty
of the latter todo their best; but the employ
ees are never so sure of them as when their
duty is also their pleasure. To commit the
execution of a purpose to one who disap
proves of the plan of it, is to employ 1
one-third of the man ; his heart anil hi*
head are against you—you have comma
ded only Las hands.
Duffi eld’s Hams. —A late Liw r J. ,-
Albion contains the following notice o
field’s Cincinnati hams :
“Miami Hams.- Whatever various opin
ions travellers may have expressed o
ica, in relation to its manners, cus " y
political institutions, all have ng 1 i
highly commending tho numeroii k
things which it produces ior the g * .
tion of the pdate iitnl nourisbmen .
hotly. Amongst the many hixii"'-
they have recently transmitted to _ ta bl«s
is none that will prove more < | j^i,
than their far-fained Miami ham-, or
possess a delicacy and pertecttoi e
that would provoke even the g> - f oltc
"ans of Musslemen or Brahmins, *
them to love the animal they u ,i lo cati
tanglrt to aldior. The cpioui'-
read the advertisement ot this u> -' arn i n g
out experiencing an affection*'' y nim j e
towards the savory novelty nl ‘ 0 f gas
of sterner stufftnan the usual V. | o „ s et'
iroliomic devotees. (>» 1, ""’ l . “'Jlrt -I
the finest breed, fed in thogr art d on
the Miami, in Western An*"' > a
wild herbage, clover, hickory . India«
corns, and afterwards fattened »<it
corn ot that fertile region.