When we arise in our full strength, England and France and the South will be as gnats in the flame before us. And there is no time to lose. France is 'tinkering away' at Mexico; foreign cannon are to pass from Mexico into the South; our foe is considering the aggressive policy. Abraham Lincoln, the time has come! Canada is to attack from the North, and France from Mexico. Your three hundred thousand are a trifle; draw out your million; draw the last man who can bear arms—and let it be done quickly! This is your policy. Let the blows rain thick and fast. Hurrah! Uncle Samuel—the rats are running! Strike quick, though—very quick—and you will be saved!
REMINISCENCES OF ANDREW JACKSON.
All public exhibitions have their peculiar physiognomies. During the passage of General Jackson through Philadelphia, there was a very strong party opposed to him, which gave a feature to the show differing from others we had witnessed, but which became subdued in a degree by his appearance. A firm and imposing figure on horseback, General Jackson was perfectly at home in the saddle. Dressed in black, with a broad-brimmed white beaver hat, craped in consequence of the recent death of his wife, he bowed with composed ease and a somewhat military grace to the multitude. His tall, thin, bony frame, surmounted by a venerable, weather-beaten, strongly-lined and original countenance, with stiff, upright, gray hair, changed the opinion which some had previously formed. His military services were important, his career undoubtedly patriotic; but he had interfered with many and deep interests. There was much dissentient humming.
The General bowed right and left, lifting his hat often from his head, appearing at the same time dignified and kind. When the cavalcade first marched down Chestnut street, there was no immediate escort, or it did not act efficiently. Rude fellows on horseback, of the roughest description, sat sideling on their torn saddles just before the President, gazing vacantly in his face as they would from the gallery of a theatre, but interrupting the view of his person from other portions of the public.
James Reeside, the celebrated mail-contractor, became very much provoked at one of these fellows. Reeside rode a powerful horse before the President, and with a heavy, long-lashed riding-whip in his hand, attempted to drive the man's broken-down steed out of the way. But the animal was as impervious to feeling as the rider to sense or decency, and Reeside had little influence over a dense crowd, till the escort exercised a proper authority in front. I saw the General smile at Reeside's eagerness to clear the way for him. Of course, this sketch is a glimpse at a certain point where the procession passed me. I viewed it again in Arch street, and noticed the calmness with which the General saluted a crowd of negroes who suddenly gave him a hearty cheer from the wall of a graveyard where they were perched. He had just taken off his hat to some ladies waving handkerchiefs on the opposite side of the street, when he heard the huzza, and replied by a salutation to the unexpected but not despised color.
After the fatigue of the parade, when invited to take some refreshment, Jackson asked for boiled rice and milk at dinner. There was some slight delay to procure them, but he declined any thing else.
I recollect an anecdote of Daniel Webster in relation to General Jackson, which I wish to preserve. On some public occasion, an entertainment was given, under large tents, near Point-no-Point, in Philadelphia county, which the representatives to the Legislature were generally invited to attend. Political antipathies and prejudices were excessive at that day. No moderate person was tolerated, in the slightest degree, by the more violent opponents of the Administration. Mr. Webster was present, and rose to speak. His intelligent and serious air of grave thought was impressively felt. He spoke his objections to a certain policy of the Administration with a gentle firmness. I sat near him. One of his intolerant friends made an inquiry, either at the close of a short dinner-table address, or during his speech, if 'he was not still in the practice of visiting at the White House?' I saw Webster's brow become clouded, as he calmly but slowly explained, 'His position as Senator required him to have occasional intercourse with the President of the United States, whose views upon some points of national policy differed widely from those he (Webster) was well known to entertain;' when, as if his noble spirit became suddenly aware of the narrow meanness that had induced the question, he raised himself to his full hight, and looking firmly at his audience, with a pause, till he caught the eye of the inquirer, he continued: 'I hope to God, gentlemen, never to live to see the day when a Senator of the United States can not call upon the Chief Magistrate of the nation, on account of any differences in opinion either may possess upon public affairs!' This honorable, patriotic, and liberal expression was most cordially applauded by all parties. Many left that meeting with a sense of relief from the oppression of political intolerance, so nearly allied to the tyranny of religious bigotry.
I had been introduced, and was sitting with a number of gentlemen in a circle round the fire of the President's room, when James Buchanan presented himself for the first time, as a Senator of the United States from his native State. 'I am happy to see you, Mr. Buchanan,' said General Jackson, rising and shaking him heartily by the hand, 'both personally and politically. Sit down, sir.' The conversation was social. Some one brought in a lighted corn-cob pipe, with a long reed-stalk, for the President to smoke. He appeared waiting for it. As he puffed at it, a Western man asked some question about the fire which had been reported at the Hermitage. The answer made was, 'it had not been much injured,' I think, 'but the family had moved temporarily into a log-house,' in which, the General observed, 'he had spent some of the happiest days of his life.' He then, as if excited by old recollections, told us he had an excellent plantation, fine cattle, noble horses, a large still-house, and so on. 'Why, General,' laughed his Western friend, 'I thought I saw your name, the other day, along with those of other prominent men, advocating the cold-water system?' 'I did sign something of the kind,' replied the veteran, very coolly puffing at his pipe, 'but I had a very good distillery, for all that!' Before markets became convenient, almost all large plantations had stills to use up the surplus grains, which could not be sold to a profit near home. Tanneries and blacksmiths' shops were also accompaniments, for essential convenience.
Martin, the President's door-keeper, was very independent, at times, to visitors at the White House, especially if he had been indulging with his friends, as was now and then the case. But he was somewhat privileged, on account of his fidelity and humor. Upon one occasion he gave great offense to some water-drinking Democrats—rather a rare specimen at that day—who complained to the President. He promised to speak to Martin about it. The first opportunity—early, while Martin was cool—the President sent for him in private, and mentioned the objection. 'Och! Jineral, dear!' said Martin, looking him earnestly in the face, 'I'de hev enough to do ef I give ear to all the nonsense people tell me, even about yerself, Jineral! I wonther who folks don't complain about, now-a-days? But if they are friends of yours, Jineral, they maybe hed cause, ef I could only recollict what it was! So we'll jist let it pass by this time, ef you plase, sur!' Martin remained in his station. When the successor of Mr. Van Buren came in, the door-keeper presented himself soon after to the new President, with the civil inquiry: 'I suppose I'll hev to flit, too, with the other Martin?' He was smilingly told to be easy.