the gross and palpable manifestation of the lowest spirit of partisanship which characterized all its proceedings-the violation of every principle of justice and fair dealing towards Mr. Hoyt, who was compelled to memorialize Congress for redress against the outrageous indecency of his persecution at their hands-the miserable contrast between the performance of the campaign and the promise of the manifesto-the disproportion between the foundations of evidence and the superstructure of "conclusions" derived by the Committee, insignificant as were even the latter in comparison with what their party had been taught to expect-the publication of four copies of the "report and conclusions," of their ingenious and unscrupulous prosecuting lawyers, for every one copy of the evidencethe virtual acquittal of the Secretary of the Treasury, of all the heinous charges that had been so furiously urged against him, and the abashed abandonment of all word or idea of impeachment,—all these things the country sees, standing too clearly in the light of day to be misunderstood, and they shall be made to appear yet more distinctly in our next Number. And well therefore may we say, with the confession made by some of the more candid and liberal of our opponents in Congress itself, before they left Washington, that the whole affair was a “miserable failure;" in verification of which it is sufficient for us here to refer to the apathy and silence with which it has been received by the Whig press itself, to which it was intended to afford the stimulating aliment to sustain their cause through the elections of the present year.

New Hampshire has nobly led off the ball, and by her Democratic majority doubled, in comparison with that of last year, has expressed her opinion upon the case submitted to her vote by this grand abortion of a party demonstration against the distinguished citizen from the "Granite State" who represents the Democracy of New England in the present Administration. We confidently predict that her example is but the prelude to a brilliant series of triumphs which will well repay it for its long and noble endurance of the ordeal of past adversity.

The policy of the Whigs is evidently now to hope for another convulsion of the paper money system by the time of the next Presidential election; and in the mean time to consolidate their union with the Conservatives, which may already be fairly regarded as complete, and to keep up what agitation may be in their power on the subject of the public defalcations. Hence their refusal to pass Mr. Wright's Bill, which, by precluding almost the possibility of future defalcation, would have marred the success of this pat riotic policy. They are also fast settling on Mr. Clay as their candidate, in accordance with the assurance we have more than once given them, that, desperate as is his chance, especially in the South

and West, neither of their other candidates can indulge even the faint hope which his sanguine temperament may yet possibly reserve to him. We have spoken of them as a party, yet they appear scarcely entitled to the name, avowing no distinctive principles nor distinctive measures. They are a mere Opposition, which is nothing else than mere faction. Their single cry is, as we recently observed it stated in one of their papers, "turn out the rogues !" evading and avoiding all the distinct issues on large principles on which the Democratic party found their party organization, and which, uniformly cherished, proclaimed and pledged, constitute the political character of the Administration. Now, we put it to the good sense of the candid of our opponents-can even the slightest chance of success attend efforts so avowedly prompted by the sole motive of an unholy ambition for power and place, against an Administration already so securely established in the confidence and affections of the great Democratic party of the country, and to the patriotism, moderation, discretion and integrity of whose chief they have themselves found themselves forced, at the close of the late session, to render so signal and unanimous a testimony?

THE OLD OAK TREE THAT GRACED THE LAWN.

How bright the scenes of boyhood's days

On manhood's memory remain!

Aye, like the nurse's cradle lays,

They live 'mid sorrow, want, and pain.

And as some object o'er the rest

Across the vision brighter steals,
A chord is woke in memory's breast
That every later sorrow heals;

And though a wanderer from the spot,
'Mid waving groves and blushing flowers

I see my father's cheerful cot,

As lovely as in childhood's hours;
When, soul enlivening, rose the sound,

At golden eve and purple dawn,

Of rosy children sporting round

The old oak tree that graced the lawn.

The verdant mead where cowslips bloomed

The stile before the forest way-
The pond where oft the bittern boomed,
When twilight spread her mantle grey-
The river where the silver trout

Leaped up to catch the gilded fly-
The mossy mill whose turn-about

Sent the dark waters foaming byThe Indian's grave upon the hill,

O'er which the fragrant wild rose blush'd— The forest shade, so cool and still,

Where 'mid the moss the fountain gush'd— The haunted ruin on the plain

The sylvan dell where slept the fawnThe village church with humble faneThe old oak tree that graced the lawn.

There is a love that lights the soul,

That lives when all things else decay,
It hovers o'er the sparkling bowl,
And turns the maniac's ire away;
It lives amid the polar gloom,

It brightly gleams in distant isles,
It hangs above the loved one's tomb,

And lights the cheek of grief with smiles,—

It is the love of boyhood's home,

Where newborn fancy breathed the air, Where, ere the foot began to roam,

The young ear heard a mother's prayer.

The din of war, the song of love,

A life upon the stormy main,

These, these may teach our feet to rove,
Till weary life is on the wane-
Still dearly then we hail the sound,
At golden eve and purple dawn,

Of rosy children sporting round
The old oak tree that graced the lawn!

WASHINGTON, D. C.

J. E. D.

THE SUN OF THE CONSTITUTION.

["One extract, only, we are tempted to make. It is the last sentence of the Work thus sealed up for fifty-two years. And we give it not merely for the striking and interesting anecdote which it contains, but to share with the thousands who will now see it for the first time the exultation that must come home to every bosom, in the feeling that the prophetic emblem of Franklin has been so completely verified in an amount of national greatness, prosperity, happiness, and honor without a stain, never reached, nor even approached by any human community in the same space of time. May the sun that rose on that day never go down!

"Whilst the last members were signing, Doctor Franklin, looking towards the President's chair, at the back of which a rising sun happened to be painted, observed to a few members near him, that painters found it difficult to distinguish in their art a rising from a setting sun.

"I have,' said he, often and often, in the course of the session, and the vicissitudes of my hopes and fears as to its issue, looked at that sun behind the President, without being able to tell whether it was rising or setting. But now, at length,

I have the happiness to know that it is a rising, and not a setting sun.'"-Democratic Review, March, 1839. Article on the Madison Papers.]

'Twas at the hour of summer eve,

The day its brightest death-smile gave,
When they, the mightiest to achieve,

Their signets to our charter gave,

A noble band in yonder hall,
Obedient to their country's call.

Behind the chair where sage debate

Was well controlled by Washington,

Appeared, as if hung out by fate,

A pictured image of the Sun-
That emblem, would it set or shine?
What patriots's eye could then divine!

And he, the sage, at whose command

The forked lightnings left their play,
Was there, and traced with steady hand
A name that ne'er shall pass away:
And when the glorious task was done,
Said proudly-"'tis a rising sun!"

Yes, now the gloomy hour was o'er,
And this was Freedom's brightest day;
Hope lighted up all hearts once more,

And fears like phantoms passed away;

A gentle spirit hovered there,

With silence deep as that of prayer.

Aye, 'twas a rising sun that peered
Above those purple pictured hills,
A sun whose ray of splendor cheered
The freemen by their distant rills :
A sun whose beams shall never set,
Though nations shall their names forget.

Earth's latest age shall feel its ray,

And millions warm beneath its smiles;
On mountain's peak its gleam shall play,
And gladden the remotest isles;

The fetter'd serf shall feel its power,
While Kings turn pale, and Tyrants cower.

As when amid chaotic night,

When earth came rolling, void of form,
Jehovah said, "let there be light,"

And light came streaming from the storm:
So streamed the ray from yonder sun,
When Freedom's title-deed was done.

"Tis here 'tis there-it fills the world,

Though strangely rising from the West;
Fierce lightnings from its face are hurled,

To scathe the Tyrant's gleaming crest:
And tho' it rose o'er hills of blood,
The Magi blessed its dazzling flood.
PHILADELPHIA.

MONT CENIS.

FROM THE RECOLLECTIONS OF A TRAVEller.

AN interesting ride, enlivened only by a distant view of the smaller Alps, conducted us from Lyons to Pont Beauvoisin. Through this village flows the Guir, a small river which is here the boundary between France and Savoy. You step as it were from one country into the other. Our carriage being detained a long time by those natural enemies of the traveller, the douaniers, or custom-house officers, my companion and myself determined to