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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