Republicanism, in his district; sometimes succeeded, and was sometimes beaten, and, for years in succession, agitated the House with contested elections between him and his federal competitor, General Hungerford. He was a member of the House at the trying crisis, preceding and during the late war with Great Britain, and enjoyed, in an eminent degree, the confidence and intimate friendship of Jefferson, Madison, and Monroe, and was always considered a practical and unwavering republican of the school founded by these our "patres conscripti." After the accession of Mr. Adams, however, a change came over the spirit of his politics, and he became "absorbed" in the "National Republican," or what is now called the "Whig" party, in which he has since continued. Mr. Taliaferro has always been an industrious, and more than that, a working member. He has seldom mingled in general debate, but has found other ways quite as potent for influencing votes. As a speaker, however, he held in former days no mean rank. He presented his views with a clearness and precision of language, and an aptitude of illustration, that commanded attention, and won conviction. At the hustings, I have been told, he was allpowerful, by means of his suavity and plausibility of manner, and his adroitness in the management of his topics. Mr. Taliaferro is now known as one of the most agreeable and pleasant men in Congress, and, at the same time, as one of the most useful and industrious members. He is cheerful and full of anecdote, and when you see him offer his snuff-box to a passer by, and give a preliminary flash from his small grey eye, you may rely upon it that something exceedingly facetious and pleasant is forthcoming. In person, Mr. T. is a little below the common height, and his figure is trim and well built. His style of dress is plain and neat, and his manner is that of an accomplished gentleman and courtier of the old school. Mr. T., I believe, never followed any profession, except the noble one of agriculture; and it is said that, as an agriculturist, he was unequalled by any man in Virginia, except perhaps, the "Arator," Col. John Taylor, of Caroline. But a white-haired and florid-looking elderly gentleman, is addressing the Chair, and you can observe that his manner excites general attention mingled with some anxiety in many a member full of the unuttered speech that is peeping out of his pocket, or laboring in his breast: He is SAMUEL CUSHMAN, from Portsmouth, Rockingham county, New Hampshire, and well known to the country by the party soubriquet of P. Q. Cushman, which the letter-writers have affixed to his name from the unrelenting frequency with which he is apt to cut short a debate big with the fate of tropes and figures and political rhetoric, by the infallible edge of the Previous Question. He was born in the State of Maine, while it was a District of Massachusetts. By profession, he is a lawyer; by nature and choice a politician. He is a veteran in politics, a martinet in party discipline. No man was ever more true to his party, for, espousing a cause with sincerity, he supports it with unbounded zeal. He has been frequently called to fill posts of trust and honor in the State which he now represents in Congress. He has been elected, if I mistake not, to both branches of Legislature, and has also served as County Attorney, and Attorney General, situations which required talents, and demanded integrity and honor. But, to serve in Congress, is to be transferred from a provincial theatre to the Metropolitan boards. Here, far higher attributes, more exalted talents, are required to arouse applause, or even to escape the sneers of the "groundlings," and the galleries. The honorable gentleman does not aspire, I believe, to fill the highest parts, either in comedy or tragedy, but he has always appeared in a very respectable line of characters. Sometimes he has been damned, with faint applause, and has very often been subjected to the ridicule and misrepresentation of those bigoted partisans who can see no merit in a political opponent. It has been gravely charged upon him that he moves the Previous Question. Truly, he does, and for that very service, if he had never done any thing else, he deserves a monument as a public benefactor. One man who can arrest a tedious, long-winded, factious, time-killing debate, is worth forty who can provoke or keep up one. It requires some moral courage, some spirit, and some tact also to move the Previous Question, and to move it, too, at precisely the right point of time. This gentleman is a good tactician, and he knows the proper moment when to draw off the skirmishers and sound the charge. With the practical duties of legislation he is well acquainted, and his business knowledge and habits render him an efficient member of the Committee of Commerce, and other very important Committees on which he has served. He is very frequently forced into debate, either in defence of the principles of his party, or of some of his personal or political friends, in the Administration, who have been made the subject of wanton and malicious attack, and this duty he always does with urbanity and good temper. As regards his character in private life, he is amiable and blameless. His character here is unblemished. His manners are easy and bland; his deportment courteous to all; his temper mild and equable, and his disposition kind and obliging. His age is, apparently, about sixty; his eyes dark, small, and piercing; person of the middle size, rather spare, and very erect; his motions quick; step elastic; and dress fashionable. A very useful and good man is this same much abused SAMUEL CUSHMAN. WESTERN VIRGINIA. A SKETCH, IN RUSTIC RHYMES, TAKEN FROM HAMPSHIRE COUNTY, VA. "Princes and lords may flourish or may fade, GOLDSMITH'S "DESERTED VILLAGE." Hail! hunting-shirt-hail! mountaineer! Right harbingers of winter cheer; Your aspect blithe invites: Above, below, The trackless snow Throws back a thousand-tinted glow, From leafless oak and hickory bare No dread of avalanche to crush; Of waters, sad decoy! But hark! the constant ring Of axe-work good; Far-flashing edges swing, And a splint'ring tempest fling ; Brief space, I ween, First gash between And last, that levels king or queen Of ancient mountain wood. Dost note the cabin by yon silent dell? A youthful band, brave hearts and true, To the lone dweller's hut they speed, Want's terror calm, And heal the broken-hearted. Genius of Freedom, hail! thrice hail! Thy throne yon "Hanging Rock," And when the mortal strife was spent, And traced above the towering pine, O'er that high arch, And stemmed the foeman's brunt. But winter's snow-wreathed chain is broken! And fleet the rush Of freshet flush, While stream and rill, From cliff and hill, Foaming and swelling as they sweep along Wakes now the planter's annual toil, Cast on the waters, where ye may, Seed time and harvest shall not fail; And you, hale sons of vigorous sires, Let men of ripened years "Emblems of household thrift,"—a spoon and spinning-wheel, which are still quite distinct to the observation of any adventurous searcher after the marvellous; and a sight of them will well repay the risk of a broken neck. The "Hanging Rock" in question,-as Western Virginia, generally, and Hampshire county, particularly, abound in that specimen of the picturesque,-is the one nearly facing Blue's Ferry, South Branch of the Potomac, commonly styled "Earsom's Hanging Rock." |