done, ours, like all free governments preceding it, must go the way of all flesh; but if it can be, its duration may be from generation to generation, to the latest posterity. To this all-important question I will not attempt a reply at this time. It would lead me far beyond the limits properly belonging to this discussion.

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Let me add, in conclusion, that this is a question, in its bearings, of vital importance to that wonderful and sublime system of government which our patriotic ancestors established, not so much by their wisdom, wise and experienced as they were, as by the guidance of a kind Providence, who, in his divine dispensations, so disposed events as to lead to the establishment of a system of Government wiser than those who framed it. The Veto of itself, as important as it is, sinks into nothing compared to the principle involved. It is but one, and that by no means the most considerable, of those many devices which I have attempted to explain, and which were intended to strengthen the popular basis of our government, and resist its tendency to fall under the control of the dominant interest, acting through the mere numerical majority. The introduction of this resolution may be regarded as one of the many symptoms of that fatal tendency, and of which we had such fearful indications in the bold attempt of the late extraordinary session, of forcing through a whole system of measures of the most threatening and alarming character, in the space of a few weeks, on the ground that they were all decided in the election of the late President; thus attempting to substitute the will of a majority of the people, in the choice of a Chief Magistrate, as the legislative authority of the Union, in lieu of the beautiful and profound system established by the Constitution.

EXTRACT FROM SPEECH ON THE WAR AGAINST GREAT BRITAIN, 1814.

"This country is left alone to support the rights of neutrals. Perilous is the condition, and arduous the task. We are not intimidated. We stand opposed to British usurpation, and by our spirit and efforts, have done all in our power to save the last vestiges of neutral rights. Yes, our embargoes, non-intercourse, non-importation, and, finally, war, are all manly exertions to preserve the rights of this and other nations from the deadly grasp of British maritime policy. But (say our opponents) these efforts are lost, and our condition hopeless. If so, it only remains for

us to assume the garb of our condition. We must submit, humbly submit, crave pardon, and hug our chains. It is not wise to provoke where we cannot resist. But first let us be well assured of the hopelessness of our state before we sink into submission. On what do our opponents rest their despondent and slavish belief? On the recent events in Europe? I admit they are great, and well calculated to impose on the imagination. Our enemy never presented a more imposing exterior. His fortune is at the

flood. But I am admonished by universal experience, that such prosperity is the most precarious of human conditions. From the flood the tide dates its ebb. From the meridian the sun commences his decline. Depend upon it, there is more of sound philosophy than of fiction in the fickleness which poets attribute to fortune. Prosperity has its weakness, adversity its strength. In many respects our enemy has lost by those very changes which seem so very much in his favour. He can no more claim to be struggling for existence; no more to be fighting the battles of the world in defence of the liberties of mankind. The magic cry of 'French influence' is lost. In this very hall we are not strangers to that sound. Here, even here, the cry of French influence,' that baseless fiction, that phantom of faction now banished, often resounded. I rejoice that the spell is broken by which it was at tempted to bind the spirit of this youthful nation. The minority can no longer act under cover, but must come out and defend their opposition on its own intrinsic merits. Our example can scarcely fail to produce its effects on other nations interested in the maintenance of maritime rights. But if, unfortunately, we should be left alone to maintain the contest, and if, which may God forbid, necessity should compel us to yield for the present, yet our generous efforts will not have been lost. A mode of thinking and a tone of sentiment have gone abroad which must stimulate to future and more successful struggles. What could not be effected with eight millions of people will be done with twenty. The great cause will never be yielded; no, never, never! Sir, I hear the future audibly announced in the past-in the splendid victories over the Guerriere, Java, and Macedonian. We, and all nations, by these victories, are taught a lesson never to be forgotten. Opinion is power. The charm of British naval invincibility is gone."

HENRY CLAY.

SUCH as was George Washington at Mount Vernon, retired from the scenes of public excitement and service, such is Henry Clay at Ashland. I had seen Calhoun at Washington in the early spring of 1846, calm amidst the strife and hurry of political warfare; I saw Henry Clay in the May following in Kentucky, serene in "the mild majesty of private life." Side by side these illustrious Americans had, for many years, proceeded in their separate courses; their ages not far dissimilar; their characters strongly contrasted; their politics invariably opposed, their various powers equally, though with different views, ardently devoted to the service of their country. Each spoke of the other with high esteem, and each inquired with earnest solicitude if health and cheerfulness were still the portion of his admired rival. Many sympathies, indeed, had bound them together; each had rejoiced with the same triumph in the happiness of the Republic; each had partaken of the same exalted anguish in her difficulties. Clay and Calhoun are the MASTER SPIRITS of America.

Mr. Clay is the most popular man in the United States; his very name is a spell, and no sooner is it heard than all mankind rise up to praise it; nor all mankind only-but all womankind; for, as in England, ladies par métier are Conservatives, so they are in America, for the same reasons, doubtless, generally attached to the Whig standard; a lovely and graceful ornament, the ladies of America are the chaplet of roses in which is wreathed the name of Henry Clay. "You cannot go back to your country without going to Ashland." "You never heard such a voice, you never knew such a man in England, as our Mr. Clay." All the children born in 1845-6, are, I believe, called after him; there is a little generation of two year old Henry Clays. Some ladies at Ithaca had lavished upon me every sort of hospitality and kindness. How," said I on parting, "shall I repay you for so much goodness?" going to see Mr. Clay, ask him for an autograph, and send it to

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us; you will have done much more for us than we have done for you. I mentioned my pledge to Mr. Clay, who at once redeemed it, and with interest; adding besides, on the same page, a most graceful message to my husband and myself. I have seen men of firm and manly minds weep at the recollection of Mr. Clay's defeat. If it were possible, that circumstance has increased his popularity, and has won for him the most universal and extraordinary attachment throughout the Union, that probably ever fell to the lot of any man, except the revered Washington. His character, manners, appearance, voice, nay, even his dress, have been minutely described to me long before I saw him; every anecdote of his life is public property; his house, his farm, his domestic circle, all belong to society at large, to the country, I might say; and many could relate a few words or syllables uttered to them or their friends, or perhaps to indifferent persons, which they had, by some fortunate chance, caught as they fell from his honied lips. Thus prepared, we arrived late one evening at Lexington, and were ushered into a parlour at the hotel, on the door of which was painted HENRY CLAY; it had been his committee room during the election. I scarcely slept for impatience; and as early as propriety would permit, the next morning the Doctor and I entered a carriage, and set off for Ashland. "We carry visiters there, Madam, every day, at all hours," said the host; on the road, I had a thousand fears, Mr. Clay might be occupied, might be absent, might be ill; the way (a mile and a half,) seemed interminable. I had no time to observe the farfamed landscape beauty of Kentucky; I was going to see "the foremost man of all the world;" to visit him of whom my husband had said,—"I shall esteem your mission unfulfilled if you return to me without having seen Mr. Clay." I never answered the various queries of the Doctor, so utterly absorbed was I in the purpose of my destination. At length we arrived; a carriage stood before the steps,-my anxiety increased, he must be engaged,-we knocked at the door, and were saluted as old friends by the faithful negro, who opened it. "Master was at home,was not engaged,-would be happy to see us." In a moment Mr. Clay appeared, and with that voice of surprising and surpassing melody, with winning smile, and open hands, himself tendered to us the courtesies of welcome. Assisting me to alight, he accompanied us to the sitting-room, and read the introductory letters that I had brought him. Here, five and twenty years before, my husband had been his guest; here, five and twenty years ago he had imbibed, and been confirmed in those principles of American politics which, Free Trade alone excepted,

have since formed the articles of his unchangeable creed. Thus are we a divided house,—and yet a united one. We both serve Clay and Calhoun, regarding them not as the men of a State, a section, or a party, but as Americans, free of thought, and pure in heart. Quickly Mr. Clay spoke of all that I loved and revered; many of Mr. Maury's family were familiarly known to him; his son Henry had married one of our relatives; and my father-in-law, the venerable James Maury, of Liverpool, possessed his highest esteem. "You have about five thousand relations in Virginia and Kentucky," observed he, laughing; "are you going to see them all? I have known many of them, and they are all endorsed with virtue." These words I have treasured as an armorial motto for my sons. We spoke of affairs public and private, the past, the present, and the future; freely and fearlessly I spoke with this great man, as with other illus trious Americans, and he conversed with me freely and indulgently, forgetful of my sex and inferiority.

"What can I do for you?"

"Nothing, but to suffer me to be with you as much as possible."

"That you shall be."

And charming were these hours, for we were of his family and of his household. The little Doctor was wild with spirits, and never knows which to prefer, his visit to Ashland or to Kinderhook; they were the choicest days he spent in America. And I sat, and talked, and listened, between Mr. and Mrs. Clay; and when many were present, "Take him," said she, "into the garden, and talk with him there, for I know you wish it, and I will trust him with you." And into the garden we went, and Mr. Clay pointed out to me the trees that his own hands had planted, cut for me every flower I looked upon or touched, conducted me to see his stock of cattle, of which he seemed very proud, and pointed out his pets; showed me the direction in which his farm extended, and explained many of his agricultural views. The flowers, roses red, and white, and yellow, amaranth, magnolia and others, are all preserved; they are laid in a cedar box with those from Kinderhook, and a rose-bud given to me by Mrs.. Madison with her farewell kiss.

In the garden during our walk, Mr. Clay in conversation alluded to his own health and present enjoyment of life. "I have not been so thoroughly well," said he, "so cheerful, so composed, for many years as during the last eighteen months."

In speaking of the state of parties, he alluded to the Presidential Election once or twice, en passant, as that "event so unexpected