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CHRONICLE AND SENTINEL.
A U6UIT \ .
SATURDAY MORNING, JULY SO.
TOR (iOVKRNOR,
CIIAK L K S 1) O I «lIEII T V ,
or ci.akk covtirt.
A Roll of cotton fully matured and opened,
was brought to our office yesterday, by a genlle
man residing in Edgefield District, S. ,on
whose plantation it was grown. This is much
earlier than usual for cotton to commence open'
rnp. and augurs nn curly gathering of the ap
proaching crop.
The Toronto Colonist slates, on the authority
of private letters received in that city, that the
British Colleen is not to leave England until the
Ist of August.
('ommvnicahi.
Penelope, Yes! Tiikoiiohu.
For the Chronicle mill Sentinel.
Messrs. Emmas: —Why waste your ink to
prove, what every I ody knows, that Judge
McDonald is a friend of a National Dank ? Do
you expert to make the Havannah Georgian ac
knowledge it? Let me tell you, if the Judge
Were to give the editor of that paper a personal
’assurance that such was the fuel, so long ns it
would serve his purpose to keep up the con
trary impression, he would shout “ huzza for
McDonald and down with the Bank.” It is no 1
one of his maxims to do justice to any body,
where justice works against a friend, or in favor
of an opponent. For instance —you may re
member, when Mr. Webster was about starting
for Europe, the blackguards of “th* caiitx”
proclaimed, every where, a most abusive state
ment, in relation to his private affairs, which, if
true, it was grossly improper to circulate. The
'Georgian published a long and violent article on
this subject. Every statement of fact, contained
in this article, has long since been positively
von!radieted, by Mr. Webster’s friends, and by
those, too, who were most likely to know all
about the matter. The Georgian has never
noticed this contradiction, hut has left the
slander to do its dirty work in the dark. To my
certain knowledge, the attention of the editor has
been called to this subject, very recently ; and
still, he says nothing. Do you expect nil the
" record evidence" in the world to affect such a
man? Pooh! It is not his “vocal inn" to ho
convinced. Q.
For the Chronicle Sentinel.
Gukknshouo, July sth, 1839.
Dkaii !Siu :—The undersigned Committee, take
■ this method of communicating to you, the great
pleasure they, in common with their fellow-citi
zens, experienced in listening to the chaste and
patriotic oration delivered by you, at the cclebra.
lion of the late utiniuersury ol our National Inde
pendence, in this place.
The object of ibis note is, to request the favor
of you to furnish u copy of the same for publica
tion. With sentiments of high regard,
We are, sir, your oh’t servants,
W.M. C. DAWSON, )
JOiSEI’H .1. KIDLEY, v Committee.
V. I*. KING, )
To J a.mks T. Johnson, Esq.
(iui.i.Nsiiouo, July Blh, 1839.
Gentiumun ;—Y’our polite note, requesting
for publication, a copy of the Address which I had
the honor of delivering before my fellow-citizens,
on the 41!i hist., has been received. I feel grati
fied .o learn, that my feeble effort on that occa
sion has met with public approbation; and thank
you for the (filtering terms in which you have
been pleased to communicate your wishes 1
herewith place at your disposal a copy of the
address as desired.
Y’ours, respectfully,
J AM. T. JOHNSON.
Messrs. Wm. C. Dawson, Y
Joseph J. Kiolk , V Committee.
Y. I’. Kino,
aooa K s s .
Fku.o w-citi* uns j—The occasion which has
convened us, is certainly one of deepest interest
to evory lover of his country. The uncounted
multitude be to ra mo and around me, proves the
feelings which it has excited. These hundreds
of human faces, glowing with sympathy and joy
and, from the impulses of a common gratitude,
turned reverently to heaven, in tins spacious
temple, consecrated to the worship of that Being
to whom our fathers appealed for the rectitude of
their intentions, in their struggle iu freedom’s
cause, proclaim that the day and the purpose of
our assembly have made a deep impression on
oar hearts. YVhat is it ? Why on this day,
have I been permitted to look upon my country’s
flag, floating in proud triumph upon the breeze?
Why has the wonted stillness of the morning,
been disturbed by the thunder ol artillery and the
sound of martial music ? What means this mil
tary pomp —this display of arms—this evident
feeling of exultation and delight? What has
called together from the avocations of life, so res
pectable an assemblage of our citizens ? On my
right, I see the aged sire whose head is whitened
with the fio-ls of many winters,and whose frame,
once firm and erect, is now bending under the
weight of numerous years : by bis side, I see his
sprightly boy, the hope of his declining age, and
among the rising prospects of a mighty republic.
I also read the countenances of matured and vig
orous manhood, now the stay of my country’s
weal. On my left, I sec the blushing maiden,
the young mother, and the aged matron. Why
all this ? (-’an yc tell me ? Ah ! it is the anni.
versary of my country’s freedom—the birih-duy
of American Liberty. On this day of extraordi
nary prosperity and happiness, ot high national
honor, distim, ia and powe .we are brought to
gether in tliis place, by our love of country, by
our admiration ut exalted character, by our grati
tude for signal services and patriotic devotion,
a.
ami by our ip peel for the memories of the illus
trious dear). It wan on thin day that our patriotic
fathers—the heroes of the Revolution) who had
long and patiently submitted to the yoke of des
potism, until even “ forliearance ceased to be a
virtue,'' mid remonstrance became mockery, with
a firm reliance on the protection of Divine I’rovi
deuce, mutually pledged their lives, their fortunes
and th< ir sacred honor, that wheresoever, when
soever, and howsoever they should lie called to
' die, they would die freemen, Unseduced hy the
fucinalions of a splendid government, unawed by
1 the. steady advances of disciplined power, they
1 threw themselves with Spartan valor in the march
of tyranny, and rescued, at its 1 ist gasp, hleeeding
’ liheily. Oh! who can contemplate without
emotions of delight, the noble disinterestedness o(
their patriotism, the proud prominency of their
stand, the chivalrous intrepidity of their conduct,
and the glorious termination of their contest, and
have
“ No vision of Ihrir fame,
A hr iff hi sin through dardness gleaming \
The glory of a denlhletl name.
With unfading radiance beaming ”
It is to commemorate this event, that wo have
assembled. Hero, as neighbors, we may and
ought to forget our quarrels, as partisans, our dif
(crimccs of opinion, and as members of one great
family, approach together the common altar ol
our country’s freedom, yet stained with the blood
of thousands who were sacrificed upon it to the
holy cause, ami for a few moments, recur to the
scenes of the Revolution, when liberty, which had
long lain prostrate at the footstool of power,arose
in her majesty, assumed her prerogative,and dis
pensed her richest blessings to an oppressed and
persecuted people. Wc come not to applaud our
own work, hut hi pay a filial tribute to the deeds
of our fathers. It was for their children, that the
heroes and sages of the Revolution hied and la
bored. They were too wise not to know, that it
was not personally their own cause in which they
embarked ; they felt that they wore engaging in
an enterprise, whieh an entire generation must
he Inn short to bring to its mature and perfect
issue- The mast they could promise themselves
was, that having east forth the seed of liberty,
having shielded its tender germ from the stern
blasts that beat upon it, having watered with the
tears of waiting eyes, and the blood of brave hearts
their children in coming time might gather the
fruit of its branches, while they who planted it
should moulder in peace beneath its shade, He
nenth its shade, Behold how it flourishes ! I(
has struck deep its roots, and sent high and wide
• its branches. It stands alike the summer’s storm
and the winter’s tempest. It flourishes under the
genial rays of a Southern sun, and brings forth '
fruit amid the bleak and chilly regions of a North- 1
ern clinic. Wc are reposing in its shade. It has 1
shielded vis in the time past, from the withering
blast of foreign oppression, and will protect us 1
now, from the burning sun of a central despotism.
Who can doubt the security of its protection I It
hag sung its triumphs on the mountain’s top, and
hoard its praises rung in the valley’s plain. And
what is ils history 1 Tell it ye chroniclers of
passing events! Vc heralds of living truth 1 It
germinated in American soil, in 177(1, and ils
death —shall only he, when sun of American
liberty shall set in blood—and the::, the star of its
glory, gleaming through the long dark night of
despotism, will light the “welkin dome” of its
martyrs’ fame, and cheer the pilgiim on to free
dom's temple.
It is not our design, nor is it necessary to iu.
quire minutely into the causes of the revolution,
or to give iu detail a history of ils occurrences.
It would be protracting to an unnecessary length,
an address suited to this occasion.
These colonies had been settled a century and
a half hy our pilgrim fathers, during which time,
as they were subject to England, they had pa
tiently submitted to repeated acts of cruelty and
oppression at the hands of the mother country.
No people ever bore with more patience and for
titude. or submitted with more mildness and mag
nanimity to injuries resulting from violated rights
than dal our forefathers. Longer forbearance
would have been criminal in the highest degree.
however seized upon the crisis which had
been approaching, and for which preparation had
been making unconsciously too, on oho or the
other side of the Atlantic for nearly two centu
ries. They well understood the part which pro
vidence had assigned them. They perceived
that they were called to discharge a high and
perilous ollleo to the cause of freedom. They
felt that the colonies had now reached that stage
in their growth, when the difficult problem of
colonial government must ho solved. They had
long enough used the soothing language of pe
tition, employed the stern prohibitions of protest,
or spoke the energetic eloquence of remonstrance
without effect, and felt now. Unit it was time
to thunder in the cars of the British tyrant, the
startling sounds of defiance. A mighty ques
tion of political right was at issue between the
two hemispheres. What an era in the history
of nations! Europe and America in the face
of the world, are going to plead the great cause
on which is forever suspended the fate of popu
lar government, by an appeal to the tied ol bat
tles. The loud, roar of the hostile cannon is
heard on the trembling plains of Bunkers’ Hill
and Lexington. The blow is struck ! The sig
nal for the fight is given. The Hag of my coun
try, with its thirteen stars and stripes is un
furled, and ils ample folds trembling to the gale,
and from the St. Lawrence to the St. Marys, from
the mountains to the coast, the sons of freedom
rush to its defence. The clash of arms, the din
of war resounds throughout the length and
breadth of these colonies. The tempest rages
upon land and sea. Ocean heaves with the bur
then of panoplied thousands rushing to the strife.
The God of war drives his car furiously over the
rising country, and demolishes whatsoever there
is of beauty and lovliness, and interest attached
to it. The smoking yiins of Charlestown—the
I bloody plains of Camden and Georgetown—the
blazing lines ol Monmouth —the blood died
waters of the Brandywine—thousands of bosoms
in an instant, fearlessly bared to whatever o*
, terror there may be in war and in death—every
m
field strewed wiih the liodifs of the dead, and
: every breeze vnr id with the groans of the dying,
1 proclaim to the astonished world, that the causes
■ which led to the strife must 1« imperious, and
* the matter of control ersy, of deep, absorbing,
’ infinite interest to the world, anil particularly to
the succeeding generations of the combatants.
, But as once remarked, one circumstance and
one alone, exists to diminish the interest of the
’ contention. The perilous inequality of the par
ties; an inequality far exceeding that which
gives animation to a contest, and so great as to
destroy even the hope of an ably-waged cncoun
l’ ter. On the one side, were arrayed the two
- houses of British parliament, the modern school
of political eloquence—the arena where great
minds had for a century and a half, strenuously
wrestled themselves into strength and power.
1 Upon the other side, rose up the colonial assem
blies of Virginia and Massachusetts, and the con
tinental Congress of Philadelphia; composed of
men whose training had been within the compass
of a small provincial circuit, who never before
had felt the inspiration which the consciousness
of a station before, world imports, and who
brought no power into the contest hut that which
they drew (rotn their cause and their bosoms. It
is bv champions like these, that the great prin
ciples of representative government, of chartered
rights and constitutional liberty, are to be dis
cussed, first in the halls of legislation, and then
on the field of battle; and surely, never in the
annals of national controversy, was exhibited a
triumph so complete of the seemingly weaker
party, a route so disastrous of the stranger.—
But ah ! whore are they 1 the first great martyrs
in this great cause—the premature victims of
their own self-devoting hearts !—the heads of our
civil councils and the distinct leaders of our mili
tary hands ! whom nothing urged into the field,
but the unquenchable fire ot their own spirits;
some of them arc cut oll'by Providence in the hour
of overwhelming anxiety and thick gloom ; fail
ing ere they saw the star of their country rise!
pouring out their generous heart’s blood before
they knew whether it would fertilize a land of
freedom or of bondage; while others more for
tunate, were permitted to see the happy results
of their trials. Illustrious patriots! honored
dead ! How shall I struggle with the emotions
that stifle my utterance at the recollection of
your names and your deeds! The works of art
may, hut yours shall endure! Monuments of
marble may moulder away ! —the solid ground
on which they rest, may sink to a level with the
sea, but your memory shall never fail ! Where
soever among men a heart shall he found, that
beats to|the transports of patriotism and liberty
its aspirations shall be to claim kindred with your
spirits!
But, fellow-citizens; their supulchres arc
among us. We can trace them through all their
various trials, to their last appointed home;
"mbs übi fulii, quietus oslenduiil." Time hag
not yet levelled the incumbent sod, nor the moss
overgrown the frail memorials, erected to their
worth. But their noblest monument is around us
and before us. Their deeds speak their eulogy
in a manner w Inch requires not the aid of lan
guage to heighten. They live in their works;
not in the perishable structures of human skill’
in marble domes, or triumphal arches, in temples
or in palaces, the wonders of art; but in the en
during institutions which they have created, in the
principles which they taught, and by which they
sought to live, and fir which they died. On
them they laid the solid foundations of our
strength and gloiy, and on these, if on any thing
human, may he written the words of immortality.
Our graveyards offer no better epitaph for them,
than that here lie the founders of our country—
the martyrs to our freedom; and brief though it
be, ami of simple phrase, it has a fulness of
meaning, the extent of which no human mind has
ever grasped. It can be unfolded only with the
destiny of our latest posterity.
Now, (ho din and desolation of war are passed.
The foe is gone! How changed the scene!—
Instead of the roar of the warrior’s cannon, and
the clash of contending arms, our ears are cheered
with the milk-maid’s song, and the plough-boy’s
whistle.
Oh ! look abroad ye heirs of liberty, and sec
your inheritance. Oast your eyes over our lofty
mountains, our far-sweeping plains, our fertile
rallies, and our dense forests. Visit our villages,
and hamlets, and towns, thickening on every
side, and listen to the sounds of busy, contented,
thrifty industry. With a system of government,
that has not its parallel upon the earth. What
n ible institutions! What a comprehensive pol
icy ! What a wise equalization of every political
advantage ! The oppressed of all countries, the
persecuted of every creed, the innocent victim of
despotic arrogance or superstitious phrenzy, may
hero find refuge: his industry encouraged, his
piety respected, his ambition animated: with no
restraint hut those laws which are the same to
all, and no distinction but that which his merit
may claim. With a commerce that leaves no
sea unexplored; Navies which take no law from
superior force; revenues adequate to all the exi
gencies of government, and peace with all na
tions, founded on equal rights and mutual respect.
Who is he that here inhales his natal air, and em
braces his mother earth, and docs not rejoice that
he was born for this day, and is permitted to pour
out his thanks, and offer up his prayers at the
home of his fathers! I.et us exultingly hailfit,
as one of glorious memory. I.et us proudly
i survey this land—the land of our inheritance
i the land of our fathers. It was watered hv their
1 tears, subdued by their hands, defended by tbeir
s valor, and consecrated by their blood. Where is
. the empire which has been won with so little
. blood shed, and maintained with so much mod
s oration!
8 But while we review our part history, and re
-1 collect what'we have been and are, the duties of
e this day were but ill performed, if we stopped
e here. 1 would ask—and it is an important in
-1 quiry, What is our destiny ? Whither does the
s linger of fate point! Is the career on which we
* have entered, to be one of onward and upward
i glory? Or, is our doom already recorded in the
past history of the earth; in the ruin ol other j
sepulchers'!
I would not willingly cloud the pleasures of j
such a day as this, even with a transient shade. ,
I would not that a single care, should flit across
the polished brow of hope, if considerations ol
the highest moment, did not demand our
thoughts, and give us counsel of our duties.
What vast motives press upon us for lofty efforts.
What brilliant prospect* unite our enthusiasm!
What solemn warnings at once demand our vigi
lance, and moderate our confidence! Ihe old
world, has already revealed to us in its unsealed
hooks, the beginning and ihe end ot all its own
marvellous struggles in the cause of liberty.
Greece, lovely Greece, the land of schollars and
the nurse of arms, where sister republics, in fair
processions, chanted the praises of liberty and the
pods, w here now and what is she 1 1' or two
thousand years, has the oppressor bound her to
the earth. Her arts arc no more. Ihe last sad
relics of her temples, arc hut the barracks of a
ruthless soldiery. The fragments of her columns
and her temples, arc in the dust, yet beautiful in
ruins. Bhc fell not when the mighty were upon
her. Her sons wore united at Thermopylae and
Marathon, and the tide of her triumph, rolled
back upon the Hellespont. The name of Mace
donia, did not the work of destruction. Gicece
was conquered by her own factions. And Rome,
republican Rome, whose eagle gleamed in the
rising and setting sun, where and what is she?
The Eternal G ty yet remains, proud even in
her destruction, noble in her decline, honorable
in the majesty of her religion, and calm as in the
composure of death.
Her glory like the light of yesterday is “gone,
and forever.” More than eighteen centuries
have mourned over the loss of her empire. Why
is it so ! Let the truth lie told, and by it, let us
learn wisdom. It was Humans betrayed Rome!
The legions were bought and sold, hut the peo
ple offered the tribute money 1
We now stand the latest, and if wc fail, proba
bly the last experiment of self-government by
thepcople. No nation ever commenced its ca
reer, under more auspicious circumstances than
did this. None has ever been so signally favor
ed, with peace and prosperity. How important
is it then, that we guard with unsleeping vigi
lance the rights and liberties we now enjoy !
Let us cherish then the feelings and principles,
which actuated our fathers in the revolutionary
struggle, and impelled them on to triumph. Let
us guard against interval foes. For when this
republic falls, (which may God prevent) the
darkest page in her history, will be that which
records the cause of her overthrow. Which will
he—
“ The chains that crushed her into dust,
Were forged by hands, from which she hoped for
freedom.”
The voice of admonition, comes to us from the
north, and from the south, from the east, and
from the west. It is borne upon every morning
breeze, and heard in the gentle whispers of every
evening zephyr. The graves of ourlathers speak
as the oracles of living truth, and toll usthat“the
price of liberty is eternal vigilance.”
If the true spark of civil and religious freedom
be cherished, it will burn. Human agency can
not extinguish it. Like the earth’s central fire,
it may be smothered for a time, the ocean may
overwhelm it, mountains press it down, hut its
inherent unconquerable force, will heave both the
ocean and the laud; and at some time, in some
place, the volcano will break forth and (lame to
heaven. It is this that shields freemen from op
pression, and liberty from pollution. It strikes
tyranny from its throne, and lays despotism un
der its feet. To it, our republic looks for safety,
on it our Union rests with security. Throwing
its panoply around us, and with its glorious
banner yet waving in bloodless triumph, “over the
1 land of the free and homo of the brave,” it bids us
all, by the fond recollections of the past, and the
bright anticipations of the future, to strike nobly,
for Lihkrtt — The Constitution — Union.
Correspondence of the Savannah Georgian.
Late from Florida.
Copy of a letter from a young officer of the
army to his friend in this city, dated
Fort LiuiiF.iiDALE, E. F. }
June 59,1833. 5
Dear Friend—lt is now nearly two months
since we have either seen or heard of a civilized
being. The steamers formerly in the employ ul
the Government have been discharged, and the
only one retained has been sent round to Tampa
Bay with Col. Harney, who is to remain in Flo
rida this summer, to perfect the treaty, and ascer
tain the boundaries, and settle other business re
lative to the new tract allotted the Indians.
It is supposed two regiments of foot remain here
1 this summer, of which the 3d is one, so our pros
j pccts are gloomy enough. We have nearly all
been sick here already—all the oUlcers—l am just
recovering from a severe attack. I believe I
should have a greater chance lor my life wete a
mill stone thrown round my neck and I thrown
into the sea, than to remain here this summer.
It is indeed most dismal to listen in a still night
to the ceaseless croaking of frogs, and meanings
of alligators—the sound seems to re-echo from
one extremity of the territory to the other, seem
ingly saying “this is our dominion, not man’s.”
At last the Indians have left their hiding places
and conic to visit us; during the last month we
have received at this post upwards of 100 war
riors. and girls, women and children innumerable;
in fact they have become latterly rather « bore to'
us than any thing else, being the most consum
mate beggars that ever existed; whiskey will not
satisfy them, they must have all the looking
glasses, beads, segars and clothes, they can spy
in your lent; ask a girl which of two handkerchiefs
she will lake, and she invariably answers both.
Os late I have taken considerable pains to as
certain from the Indians themselves as much of
their history, religion and manners, as 1 thought
consistent with our present policy, without exci
ting their suspicion. Os the former inhabitants
ot Florida they know nothing, nor do they know
more of themselves than that they are a remnant
of the tribe of Muscogee (Creeks) w hich formerly
inhabited Georgia a.ul Alabama. The Miekasu
kies and Seminole arc now the Florida Indians
proper, though there are some Choctaws and
Chickasaws, a fact I learned hu: a few days ago
and of which I believe the Government is perfect
ly ignorant. The Mickasukies are the most sav
i a £°- though few est, and their appearance does
not at all belie their character. A few days ago
Sam Jones, the real simon pure, paid us a visit’
together with Chitto-tustcnuggce (snake warrior)
and his Sense Keeper, a most demoniacal looking
aegro; these, with a few others Sam bought
I with him, gave us a fine spi cimen of their dar
-1 in^tribe —they number2so; thcSeminoles 1,000
—so sailh Sam. It is very well known that
these Mickasukies have alone prolonged the war, j
having repeatedly shot runners and messengers
sent both by whites and Indians. Sam made
quite a sensation as he antered our ramp. He is
a tall, spare old man, with looks as white as the
crane feathers he wore in his girdle, and dressed
out in all his toggery, at the head of those fierce
Mickasukies, together with the negro, looked
more like the leader of a band of fiends than hu
man beings. I might liken him to a king, but
then such a name for his majesty—only think
Sam Jones the fisherman. This is the first time
he has been in since the commencement o( the
war, and I think it augurs well that he came to
that conclusion, as he possesses vast influence
among them, and proposes to exert it as we wish,
though if they chose, the war might have been
prolonged 20 years longer, as he himself says,
for the past year they have all been in the deep
i est recesses of the swamps concealed beyond the
remotest search of the white man, and there they
might have continued in spite of us: and so close
have they kept themselves, that we have entirely
miscalculated their numbers —and some have
supposed them in a starving condition, and with
out clothing, &c.; but the appearance of those I
have seen, testifies but too well to their capacity
for vigorous resistance.
I have been rather more particular in endeav
oring to ascertain their sentiments on the subject
of religious belief—though of that they say they
know nothing, only giving what they think, and
the old people say. When death lays them be
low the ground, they say a sort of corporeal being
like their former selves (they cannot conceive of
a spirit) goes in that part of the world where the
sun goes down; there he hunts, fishes and en
joys himself; if he has been a good warrior, lie
finds plen'y of game—if not, none. This is all
I could obtain from them, having a singular aver
sion to all such conversation on abstract subjects,
not being able to comprehend them. They are
the most practical people in the world, eating and
sleeping being their chief pleasures. From one
of the younger men, who was more loquacious, I
sought some information on the subject of ghosts;
he believed in them and had seen one; had been
hunting, and saw, during the night, his uncle
who had been dead eight days before, with a head
as large as his body—he was frightened nearly
to death, was sick for two days—afterwards went
to the spot, and found a white crane standing
there—most conclusive proof, he thought, of the
existence of the ghost. He was silenced at last
by one of the old men, who said he was talking
foolishness.
During our intervals of leisure,having nothing
to do, we would talk to them of Astronomy, of
what the white man was enabled to see in the
moon by means of telescopes, that there were
mountains, trees, waters,and perhaps people, like
those on the earth ; we would tell them of the
wonders of sailing on the ocean without sight of
the sun, or land; and all they wonkl exclaim,
was Hi la, (word of astonishment) and say they
did not believe it. They manifested also a sin
gular indiferenre towards all the wonders of our
time, either in skill or power.
An Indian will goon board a steamboat, (fire
boat he calls it,) look at the furnace, exclaim Hi
la, what a hot fire, and never conceive of admi
ring the work as a whole, or of the genius that
could devise, or the hand that could execute such
a mighty structure. He looks upon such things,
as if they always existed in the world as a matter
of course, and came into being like his own native
forests, he neither knows nor cares how. There
is a difference between us and them, they think
their fathers wiser than themselves, we call # thc
wisdom of our grandfathers, foolishness; the Indian
will not add a sail to his canoe, with us every day
brings its improvement; hence we progress, they
retrograde.
Our recreations, both physical and intellectual,
are exceedingly limited here : the sun forbidding
us to enjoy the one, snd the scanty supply of
books the other. It is this yearning for some
thing to do, which has mainly induced me to
task your deciphering powers, so much.
Wo have just received an invitation from Sain
Jones to attend the green corn dance to-morrow,
although Toney (our interpreter,) says we had
better not go. From what I can learn, it is near
ly as follows: On the first day they fast, sepa
rating themselves from one another, and as Toney
expresses it, only “study." Every man thinks
over the affairs of the nation, and also his own
private matters, counts up his scalps and all his
exploits of daring in war, and his hunting ad
ventures if during peace—after this preparation,
they are fit for the long harangue and the dance,
and if they have any prisoners, finish with the
torture at the stake. Up to thir time they have
fasted—on the Sd they make a new fire, the men
cocking altogether, they then feast and dance,
drink and carouse to such an excess as to become
in a stale only equalled sometimes by the Anacon
da or Boa Constrictor.
We published, on Friday, the party address,
made to the President at Castle Carden, and his
parly reply. As some of our readers may have
been fain to pass them over, while in dull prose,
; —and very dull prose it was, —the poetical paro
dy which follows, from a keen pen. may attract
more attention, and fix more lastingly the scorn
which such exhibitions, on the part of the first
, Magistrate of the Republic, are too well calculated
j to inspire.
I I'u the Editor of the New York American ;
3 Sir—On reading the address of the Chairman
1 of the Democratic Committee to the President of
the United States, on his landing at Castle Gar
den, and the President’s reply thereto, it struck
me that it might be doing a favor to (he Democra
tic party, and a service to the public, to give a
metrical version of those unpremeditated, but
' beautiful productions.
One of the advantages of rhyme, is the aid
t which it gives to the memory; and it has been
1 thought to possess some superiority over prose in
1 its capacity to express ideas and sentiments in
1 fewer words.
1 enclose you the result of my labors, with this
1 additional remark, that although something may
* be lost in the effort at condensation, yet no pains
1 have been spared to render this metrical copy
J worthy of the original. X
s Sln * Ktl.MOXDs’ AUDKESS TO THE IMIESIUEJfT.
! ~ SlH >~
I he Democrats of every grade.
Os every isle, and name, and nation,
| W r ho in this city thrive by trade,
Or occupy a humbler station,
Have chosen us, who know the facts,
To compliment your public acts.
The which, we now perform with pleasure,
Approving every act and measure.
As Chief ot this our glorious party,
And not as mere Chief Magistrate,
We give you, Sir, a true and hearty
Welcome to your native Slate.
We’re also charged to represent
The party, to the President.
’Tisnot our duty to discuss,
In such a public place as this,
Things which have gone from bad to worse,
Or those which only go amiss.
But, as free citizens, we feel
- ‘Tisdue to our own party weal,
To introduce, and heie express.
Our faith in your high mightiness;
In whose long gilded train we see
1 he love of pure democracy.
\ our history, sir, will form a page
T’ enlighten every after-age,
Unless some Whig should hold the pen,
And turn to ridicule the story,
Or place before our mental ken
The whole unravell'd skein of glory.
But let the rogues say what they will,
Theworld will give you credit still,
For coolness that no weal could heat, —
For art no talent could defeat, —
For prudence and for tact display’d,
That cast some nobler names in shade.
Though young as yet in power and station,
You have so energized the nation,
That great revulsions, once so rare,
Are now a common-place affair,
* And serve to show the true intent
And usefulness of government.
You have, by low financial diet,
Kept trade and commerce culm and quiet:
And by a sort of treasury farce,
Made bullion must infernal scarce.
For these, and things to Whigs so hateful'
Your humble servants feel most grateful.
The power, sir, we have most to fear,
Is private wealth and public cheer ;
Prosperity, we hold, is bad—
And though there’s nothing in it sad,
It tends to make the nation mod.
It brings about strange revolutions,
And generates those false conclusions
That undermine free institutions.
In short, prosperity, we feel,
Is adverse to the public weal;
And hence our system should be made
To check the natural course of trade, —
To tread upon the toes of wealth,
And thus insure.commercial health.
The statesman that would gain renown.
Must break the nation’s spirits down—
As did your first communication—
Which met our cordial approbation,
Although we know each proposition
(Bitter as pill ofquack physiciap)
Would meet with damning opposition.
Sir, we beheld with pride and pleasure
Your efforts to disperse the treasure,
And rather than in Banks to lock it,
To put it in Turn Nukes’s pocket,
Or in some Treasury sub of State,
Where it might chance to circulate.
This measure, sir, we will sustain;
By it alone we can maintain
That large and influential class,
Whose useful labors none surpass—
Who carry things, as ’twerc, by stoim.
And aid in every great reform.
In them, abundant virtue lies—
Obedient, active, crafty, wise,
With feelings of inveterate hate
Against the rich, and would be great.
Such men, we must support and pay ;
By office, or some other way.
And ’(would, we think, show more address,
To tax the office-holders less.
To you, sir, and our friends at court.
We all look up for strong support ;
While ve, meantime, to party true,
Will give a firm support to you.
This is the upshot of our story—
Our interest, principle and glory,—
And so, without more idle prate,
You’re welcome to your native State ;
That is, if we can fix and fit it,
So that your Excellency cun get it !
the president's REPLY.
My worthy friends, I’m much affected—
This welcome’s more than 1 expected ;
For some of you have been neglected ;
Though not through want of will or grace,
But merely for the want of place.
Democracy to office leans,
To office looks for ways and means;
And thick as scalps in Indian nations
Are office-hunters’ applications—
Do what I will, when all is done,
One office will but serve for one.
No vacancy exists an hour—
Few die, and none abandon power.
Unless, perchance, with view to vex us,
They rob the till, —and run for Texas !
Or speculate and play the fool,
And write us notes from Liverpool.
But with these ills there’s something kind
Comes flashing o’er the troubled mind—
(Lj'A vacant office left behind'.
I mention these things not as new,
But to excuse myself to you,
And show you’re not of hopehercfl
While rogues are still in office left.
But to return from whence we started—
’Tis long, my friends, long since we parted!
Long may you live to hear and see
1 he tiiumphs of Democracy.
Your praise of my great fiscal measure,
Affords me the sincerest pleasure;
Nor less your cordial approbation
Os my attempts at reformation ;
For sure no statesmen in the land
Such matters better understand.
Your, views would e’en the learn’d surprize’
They’re so profound, judicious, wise—
In party’s purest light you see
All things— and hence agree with me.
The Democratic sense is sound,
And to the sub is coining round,
On that the nation’s fate depends—
And if it fails, our freedom ends !
For twill be one of those solutions
1 hat sweep from earth free institutions.
But I have faith—it mint succeed—
It cannot die—so Cam has said,
But Cam may now more justly doubt it,
Since he’s no more to say about it.
The bankrupt law I recommended,
Somehow or other got suspended,
The States, sagacious, saw the snare,
And would not touch a single hair—
Bullet that pass—And let me here,
Once more return my thanks sincere,
For all you’ve said, and yet may s iy,
’Twixt this and next election day.
For all you’ve done, and yet may do,
And for your cordial welcome 100.
“ Don’t give up the ship.”— Lawrence.
It is reported that three brothers, men of wbalth,
and good men and tried, have olfered 14,000 to
the Bunker Hill Monument Association, on such
conditions as cannot be refused, towards the com
pletion of the obelisk, and that the work must go
ahead and be soon concluded.— Bust. Transcript.
Red Hair,—“A tinpenny, only a tenpenny, I
your honor,” exclaimed a sturdy beggar, at a
stage-coach door in Ireland, to a Scotchman with
firery ringlets, but who was quite insensible to
the appeal.—“A fippenny, your honor, afippenny
ora penny, ora half-penny, plase ye.” Finding
the Scot inexorable, the beggar altered his tone,
and said, “Will your honor plase to lend me a
lock of your hair to light my pipe with.”
MARINE INTELLIGENCE.
. , Chirlf.ston, July 19.
Arrived yesterday— Sp. trig Matilda, Zamus,
Havana.
Cleared Sp. brig Andalusia, Duglas, W Indies;
schr Lady Warrington, Heard, Baltimore.
OCj’ RESIDENT —Dr. MunboCs
operating rooms, second door from Broad trect, on
Mdntosh-st, opposite the Constitutionalist office
march 13