®I)C Lancaster 1 1itcllicjciiccr. VOL. LI. intelligencer fe Journal. Lancaster, Aa&ust 6,1850. ORATION Of Rev. Dr. Bowman. Rev. Dr. Bowman —Dear Sir:—The Com mittee of arrangements beg leave to return their thanks to you for your eloquent and ap propriate address on the life and 'character of the late Gen. Zachary Taylor, and respect fully request a copy for publication iu the papers of the city aud county. Its publication will undoubtedly afford much gratification to those of our citizens who were unable to be present on the occasion of its de livery, and we doubt uot it will be read with reuewed pleasure by many of those who were favored with an opportunity of hearing it. Very respectfully Yours, D. G. ESHLEMAN, Chairman. Lancaster, Jyly 27, 1850. D. G. Esq.—Dear Sir: The address was not prepared, as you may see, with a view to publication. But having delivered it at the request oryour Committee, I shall leave it to you also to decide upon the propriety of pub lication. I certainly Bhould not have proposed if. Very respectfully yours, S. BOWMAN. Lancaster, July 27, 1850. Felloio - Citizens-'— I could have wished thut the duty of addres sing you on this occasion had devolved on some other—some one mure competent than I to do justice to the illustrious subject—more likely to meet ihe just expectations of this as sembly. But the task lias been assigned to me by those whose wishes I atii not at liberty lo disregard ; and I proceed of it, thou eh coucious of no other fitness than high admiration for the illustrious deceased aud a profouud grief at his untimely death. We are assembled on a most melancholy oc casion v God lias smitten the nation: The blow has fallen on its head : The first man among us is takef? a vuy : The highest is struck down.— In the beginning of his official career—the vig or of his strength, unbroken—in -the midst of hpnor and ut tho height of influence, he is sud denly cut off, and all his thoughts and plans, and expectations for usefulness perish with him. Let us pause for a moment, to contemplate the disaster that has befallen the nation, and to ponder the lessons and reflections which as men —as patriots—aud as Christiaus it should sug gest to us. J This is no topic, nor is this the place or oc casion for controversy. We are assembled to commemorate a common bereavement. Let the din ot politics and the strife of parties be hushed at the grave side—especially at the*: grave side of one extraordinarily free from such influences. ’Tis the calamity of party times jhat, do as he will, a publifc man can hardly act at all, without being suspected or denounced as a partisan. But whatever else may be denied him, this praise will be conceded to our late- President—that he desired to be the ruler of the people, not the&ead of a party —that his large heart embraced the nation—that his sincere wish was the general good. It is a trite but just observation, that, we sel dom know our blessings until they are lost: — They must be taken away in order to teach us thejr value. lam forcibly reminded of this ob servation at this moment. Numerous and ar dent as were the friends of Gen. Taylor whilst liviug, which of us felt his worth and import ance as we now feel it ? Aud lam sure that I do no more than justice to those who were uot his political supporters, in thinking that they will be no lesß ready than others to acknowl edge that a great as well as good man has fallen —and that his removal, at this juncture, cannot be regarded otherwise than as a National ca lamity. Burying then, for the moment, all remem brance of those differences of opinion which may chance to divide us, let us unite, as bro thers should, iu doing honor to the memory of our departed chief—not as the leader of a par ty, but as the acknowledged head of the gov ernment, in which we have all a common con cern, aud for whose honorable and successful administration all should be equally solicitous. Our late President was born in 1784. He was a native of Virginia, whence his family ear ly migrated to th* neighboring State pf Ken- Growingj-up as he did amid scenes of frontier life,he raised many of the literary and social advantages Which are found* only iri older and more settled stages of society. But his case the more beautifully illustrates the equal and. impartial operation of our political and so cial institutions—their tendency to foster tal ent, and to reward, merit. Here was the com paratively uneducated son of one of the hardy pioneers of the west: Without wealth—without patronage or high connections, he enters upon au honorable career, and by . the sheer force of native euergy—high principle and the faithful discharge of'every official duty, he so fixed him self, at lasi, in the confidence aud love of his country, as to make the sentiment a very gene ral one, that wd;sere receiving as well as con ferring honor, iri p|acing him at the head of our national affairs.« Iu what nation upon earth, ex cept oUr own, could such a result have hap pened? The son of a-revolutionary soldier—born just at the close of that eventful struggle, and whilst its thrilling incidents must still have been the constant theme of fire-side discussion—growing up amid the stirring events of a border warfare —it is hardly surprising that a military bias should early have deVeloped itself. His wish es were soon gratified. In 1808 he entered the array as a Ligptenant. In 1812 war was de clared, between this couutry aud Great Britain ; and before the end of the year, our young soldier had greatly distinguished himself by the gallant and successful defence of Fort Harrison against an overwhelming force of merciless aud fero cious savages, with but a handful of men, and they w6rn down by disease and exhausted by famiue and fatigue. From the close of the war in 1815 to 1837, his life was speut iu frontier duty, and amid the inglorious hazards of Indian warfare—a field, of which it has been truly said, that though hon or is not to be gaiued in it, great Generals are made by it. For however inferior iu open field, yet on his own peculiar ground—amidst dense forests and almost impracticable marshes—rea dy as the crouching panther to avail himself of every advantage that cunning or treachery may furnish—the’ savage warrior becomes a most dangerous foe. Nor can any service be imagin ed mure likely to accomplish an officer in the military virtues of- courage and vigilance—of caution and patient endurance—than that of pursuing and enpoqntering an Inniqn foe in his own favorite hiding places. It was in this kind of service that Gen. Taylor acquired those mili tary accomplishments which, on an other field, won for him an imperishable renown. In 1837 occurred our last war with the übo ngines ot this * country— that unhappy race whose footsteps are constantly tending toward the setting sun, and who seem destined at last, like the wild herds on their own hunting grounds,, to disappear forever. ° Let us dwell for a moment oa the sad histo-. ry-the mysterious destiny " of lhi „ unh race. Three and a half denturies ago the ex istence of this country was unknown beyond its own limits. No foreign sail had, ever ap proached its shores—no white man’s foot had trodden upou its soi l , and through its “ grand pjd woods" silence and solitude every where reigned. The roar of Niagara had never bro ken upon an ear that could listen to its glorious thunder with any other feeling-than that of sav age -admiration : nor had any ■ eye beheld our magnificent lakes and rivers—now the great highways of commerce—that could see in their mighty waters a capacity for any higher use than to afford fishing ground for the Indian, or to float his light canoe. But the land was even thpn inhabited by a numerous and diversified race. They occupied it from the frozen North down to the, sunny ever smiling South. In the mountain torrent or flowing nver—the dense forest or open prairie, they found a sure and ready supply of their few and simple wants. They thought—they called the land their own. they knew—they acknowledged no superior. ■\Vhere are they now ? Thiuned in numbers —Rroken in spiriF-degraded by the white man’s vices, without benefiting by his knowledge and-religion—they linger still upon our wes tern borders—receding year by year before the advancing wave of civilized life —looking wist fully back to the graves of their fathers—-dwel ling fondly upon the traditions of their ancient greatness, and gloomily anticipating the time when their race and name and memory shall 'be extinct—or survive only like their own Mas todon, in dim traditions or fossil remains. It is jpelancholy—almost awful—to contemplate the absolute extinction of an eutire and mighty raceofmeu. Buttoreturn. The difficulty iu Indian warfare is rather to discover the foe. than to conquer him when found. Familiar with all the recesses of the forest—the fording places of streams—and the practicable paths through morasses—unencum bered with baggage or military stores—able to subsist for days oq the scantiest supply of food —patient, watchful, treacherous, aud cruel—he was a foe, whom it was at once most difficult to pursue and most dangerous to encounteiv— This howpver was the field of duty assigned to our late President at the time alluded to, and then holding the lank of Major Penetrating with characteristic, yet cautious boldness, the everglades of Florida, hitherto uutraversed by a white man’s foot—he came at length uponhis wily foe, on the marshy shores of Okee Chobee —a large like on which the steamboat now plies, but v>hose very existence was then un known, and in one bloody, but decisive battle, broke his power arid terminated the contest. 'For his services on this occasion he was bre vetted Brigadier General. In 1845, Texas, for merly one of the Northern provinces ol Mexico, was admitted iuto the Union. Anticipating re sistance on the part of Mexico, Geu.'Taylor was ordered to enter ihe disputed territory—<to act only on ihe defensive—but to hold himself in Readiness for any emergency. He accordingly advanced Southward from point to poiut, till he at last reached and fortified himself on the North bank of the Rio Graude, the Southern bouudary of Texas. But he was not long left to inactivity, nor even to the choice of defensive action. The Mexicans collected in large force at Matamo ras, on the opposite bauk of the river, and it was soon evident that an opeu collision could not be long postponed- Leaving his position for a few days to look after his place of supplies at Point Isabel, which was thought to be in dan ger, the Mexicans, availing themselves of Gen. Taylor’s absence, immediately crossed the river and intercepted him on his return. On the Bth of May, the hostile armies met and fought the blood v but indecisive battle of Palo Ali\. Americans however retained possession of the ground and slept upon it. Retreating iu the night, reinforcing aud fortifying* themselves at Resacu de-la Palma, five miles distant from the battle field of the previous day, the Mexicans awaited there the coming up’of our army on the morning ol the 9th. The Battle was renewed at an early hour, and with more bloody and de cisive issues than before. The odds were fear fully against us in numbers. But discipline, courage, and the confidence of success, more than balanced this disadvantage. Victory again perched upon the American standard : Mexican forces, routed and dispersed, fled to Matamoras and' crossed the river in confusion and dismay : Matamoras itself quickly fell into •our hands : The broken forces of the enemy, re treated into the interior: And within the space of twelve days the name of the American lead er—hitherto unknown, save in the obscure an nals of Indian warfare,’acquired a distinction which will be lost only when history expires. There is something,*it must bo owned, pain fully unequal—perhaps unavoidably so—in the distribution of the honors aud rewards that fol low a great victory. We admire—we pay al most more than human honors to the genius that plans the battle; —the man whose presence auimates and whose voice directs the struggling and victorious hosts. But where—when the battle is won and the shout of triumph has died away into silence—where are the bold hearts and the strong arras,” that have achieved the victory ? Who thinks of the heroes in the ranks 1 They met a soldier's death, and sunk into an unregarded grave: or live, after a few poor words of geueral praise, to be forgotten—or re membered only at intervals, when they can be Used to grace a pageant or lengthen out a pro cession ! So it has ever been; so perhaps it must be. I speak it, not to the disparage ment of the illustrious deceased; but to show the vanity of honors so unequally distributed. On a high plateau of table land—surrounded by the lofty peaks of the Sierra Madre—stands the city of Monterey—in the midst of a delicious climate—embowered in trees—aud built with the extraordinary strength which the Spaniards learned the use of in their long wars with the Moors. 'Towards Monterey—the chief city of the interior provinces of Mexico—and several hundred miles south of the Rio Grande—the at tention of General Taylor—now largely rein forced—was next directed. Singularly strong iu its natural position, it was also fortified with extraordinary skill, and defended by a well ap pointed garrison of ten thousand meD. . In September, 1846, he sat down before the city of Monterey, with au army of seven thous and. The attack which speedily ensued was conducted with consummate bravery aud skill, and, notwithstanding its natural strength—its artificial advantages—and its courageous de fence—within three days terms of capitulation were proposed by the beleaguered city, and the flag of our country floated triumphantly over its baulement9. The victory so heroically won, was as mercifully used by the conqueror. The persons and property of the citizens were care fully protected; and the garrison wbb allowed to retire without the imposition of any terms that would have dishonored them as soldiers. In February of the eusniug year, leaving a garrison at Monterey, General Taylor advaucetl upon Sultillo—a towu considerably to the south of Monterey, and two thousand feet above it in elevation. Nearly all his regular troops had re cently been withdrawn for service in another field, leaving him with almost none but volun teers uuder his command. In themeantime the Mexicans, under the ablest leader their country has produced, were advancing in force to attack him where he lay. Leaving Saltillo in his rear, he selected with admirable judgment, a spot most happily adapted for'the manceuveriug of a small army in th& presence of a larger one. It was the field of' Buena Vista. Aud here, with bis five thousand men, he determined to await, the coming of Geu. Santa Anna with his twenty thousand. Nor had he long to wait. It was the morning of one of our national ju bilees—the birth-day of the Father of his Coun try. The sun shone beautifully out, clear and serene, and not a soldier but felt in the day and its brightness au omen of the, victory that was to follow. There was every thing to stimulate them to high and daring deeds. The lofty peaks of the Sierra Madre, like the guardian spirits of the laud, frowned angrily upon them from above. But to the North and in plain sight—over the towers of Saltillo, floated the stars and stripes ot their country. Far from their homes and the possibility of help—surrounded by a treacherous and hostile population, certain, upon the first advantage to precipitate itself upon them—they had nothing but God and their own energies to rely upon. Victory might be doubtful in the impending conflict); but defeat was certain ruin. # Small time however was left them for reflec tions such as these. The enemy was at hand. Clouds of dust—the trampling of cavalry—and the noble strains of martial music, announced the Mexicans’ approach. Onward they came, in all “ the pride and pomp and circumstance of glorious warand so confident was their leader iu his overwhelming superiority of num bers, that he thought it a* courtesy, before a blow was struck—to offer Gen. Taylor the priv l ile S e of an . honorable surrender! But he had to do with a man, wbo never surrendered to a oe, and never deserted a friend. The battle as tuught. Long and fierce aud bloody was in : Oft tbe victory seemed to tremble „ ♦ a * ance 5 but as oft ibe momentary dis and when the sun thin A n 1^ e^t brave man, whose death „ V„.L . 3 ; lore ' atths bead of a thinned . L “ Ut vlc t°nous army. Expecting the battle to be renewed next morning, General Taylor and his troops slept on the bloody 6eld. Avaihogthemsekeshow-erer, of the darkness, the Mexicans retreated the same night Their retreat soon increased to flight. Th*ir «,vt and wounded they left to the mercy of the con querors; and in an incredibly brief space of time, the that army—the most splendid far that Mexico gathered during the war was broken up and scattered. By this victory, the “THAT COUNTRY IS THE MOST PROSPEROUS, WHERE LABOR COMMANDS THE GREATEST REWARD.”— Buchaha*. CITY OF LANCASTER, TUESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 6, 1850. whole country,- north to the Rio Grande, was thoroughly subdued; and with this splendid achievement, the military career of General Taylor terminated. Soon after he obtained leave of absence to visit bis family. His campaign had been a long one, and daring all that time he had not once slept under a roof or within walls.. His fame had preceded him: honors every,, where await ed him. The sentiment was aafcady awaken ed aud widely spread, that he who had so tri umphantly guided the camp, was eminently fit ted to conduct the vessel of State. By no effort or solicitation of his own, he* became a candi date for the Presidency : By no arts or intrigues of his, he was trinmpfaautly elected. The of fice solicited him—uot he the office. It wasjhe spontaneous tribute of a grateful and admiring people: “ Titles of honor add not to bis fame, Who was himself an honor to the title." That his nomination to the Presidency was mainly owing to his military achievements, will uot be denied. But neither will it be allowed, that the people greatly erred in supposing that those qualities which placed him in the first ranks of his profession as a soldier, were a suffi cient guarantee of bis fitness for the highest civil station in their gift. Certainly one may be a successful soldier, and yet utterly unfit to manage the affairs of State. But that mysterious quality in a com mander, which wins the confidence of the sol diery,—which enables him to inspire them with his own hopefulness—to impress them with the persuasion—that under his guidance they must conquer—is identical with the quality which, in the highest measure, fits a man for the lead iu civil affairs. To analyze this power—de scribe its elements—or say wherein it resides—ls hardly possible. Even to the possessor of it, it is more or less a mystery. But to a public mau, it is all essential. It multiplies his power in an infiuite ratio; and whether he speak or act —per- suadeoror--threaten—he does so with a power, proportioned to the combined force of all the minds and energies and wills over which he has acquired this mysterious control. The possession of this power by our late President will not be deniejL; aud when we add to it the possession of a that was seldom at fault—an integrity of principle that was never suspected—and a firmness of purpose that never faltered in the path of duty—it must be owned that the people judged not amißs, that the man so eudo weu could hardly fail in a civil trust, though trained exclusively to the .profession of arms. An encouragiug reflection here suggests itself, to which I beg leave for a moment to advert. It is that there is a vast amount jof unknown, un employed administrative taleut in the land.— When, at the head of a small body of men, he was ordered down to Texas, who would have thought of the obscure name of Colonel Taylor in connection with the Presidency ? Yet he was the same mau then, and as eminently quali fied for that high station—in all points, save the influence of his reuown, —as when, two years later, he stood the peerless and triumphant con queror on one of the most remarkable battle fields of modern times. The military achieve ments of Gen. Taylor did not fit him for liis of fice : They only brought him into notice, and led the nation to enquire iuto his history aud to Study his character. The result was his immedi ate elevation—not simply because he had been 'a successful soldier, but because of the persua sion that the same qualities that had made him great in arms, would pre-eminently fit him for the conduct of civil affairs. Nor is it to be doubted that, at all times, there are minds among us, unknown to fame and office, yet abundantly able, if need be, to guide the affairs of the nation with honor and success. A new scene however was now opened— new duties now devolved upon Geu. Taylor.— His whole previous life had been passed amid th’e stir and excitemeut of the camp. It was more or less therefore problematical how he was to succeed in political affairs. I believe however I do not err in saying that the experi ment was a successful one—aud that the brief administration of President Taylor justifies the opinicn that, with a sound judgment to guide him, an houest heart and a resolute spirit any man may be safely trusted even with the high est office in the gift of the people. Nay, if one may venture an opinion upon matters that lie somewhat beyond the ordinary range of his observation 1 would say, that the people—the great body of the people —found in his very unacquaintance with the mystery of politics a recommendation, rather than an objection They seemed to discover iu it a guarantee that be would seek, not the proraotiou of a party, but the country’s good, and to think that, how ever a long political training may give a man dexterity aud address in the management of affairs, yet that all this advantage was more than balanced by the unsophisticated honesty, which, knowing nothing of the arts and intri cacies of politics, has neither the ability nor the disposition to U6e them. Nor must it be forgotten that he entered upon office iu times of peculiar difficulty—when the spirit of party ran high—when great, novel and most exciting questions filled and agitated the public mind. That his views and policy were opposed, was no more than was to be expected. That be committed errors, it would be presump tuous to deny. But who will say that ho was ever found unequal to his station—that his spirit ever quailed before the formidable oppo sition that was arrayed against him—or that he failed at any moment to comprehend his true position—to penetrate the difficulties by which he was surrounded, —or to chose with charac teristic promptness, the line which, iu his judgment, duty and .prudence aud patriotism indicated as the rignt one? I need not add that what was thus cautiously and conscien tiously decided on, as proper, was pursued with & steadiness and determination that seemed to recognize neither obstacle nor interval, between duty aud the discharge of it. His administration of the Executive office, however, was too brief to warrant a confident aud decisive judgment. That it would have been severely criticized is certain. Nay,thatit would have been open to criticism, who will deuy ? It is vain to look for faultlessuess in any human institution or administration. But that his government would have beeu conducted ou high and honorable principles—that whilst scrupulously regardful of the rights of other na tions, he would have beeu jealously watchful of the honor and interests of his own, caudor itself must acknowledge. Short as was his continuance in power, he had ample opportuni ty to give the world assurance that his policy would have bepn characterized by the most ea lerged and earnest patriotism—the strictest re gard to justice—and the incest sense of honor. One or two instances will euffico to illustrate this. When the late predatory invasion of Cuba was known to be iu agitation, the President in stantly set the government right before the world in regard to it, by a proclamation denoun cing the nefarious enterprise, and warning the misguidedmen engaged.in it of the guilt and peril they were likely to incur. At this stage of the business he could do no more. When the ill-starred enterprize had embarked, orders were found to have been already despatched to our cruisers in the Gulph, if possible, to pre vent a landing. And this as much out of mer cy to the misguided adventurers as of regard to the rights of a feebler and friendly nation.— When the expedition had failed and fled, in discomfiture and disgrace, to our own shores, instantly the laws oi the land, which had been shamefully violated, were invoked to avenge the outrage. But when it was heard that a ves sel sailing under the American Sag, and in all : probability connected with the enterprise, bnt as yet guilty of no overt act, . bad been seized by Spain, on the high seas, or in some neutral port, swiftly as the message could be conveyed thither, the Cubun authorities were informed, that if one hair of the head of these misguided men was touched, without law, or against law, Spain would be sternly held to a full and rigo rous answer. In all this, there was neither tameness nor bravado—neither haste nor de lay. When the time for action came, and not before, we always find that he was ready for action, neither too soon, nor too late. Nor would it be easy to imagine any act of a govern ment more indicative than this, of a nice sense of what was doe to its ownhonor—the rights of other nations and even to its guilty bnt misgui ded citizens. I will refer to one other measure or series of measures consummated daring his short admin- istration, and characteristic of what it would have been had it been longer continued. I allude to the Nicaraguan and other treaties recently rat* ified between this country on the one side, and Great Britain and some of the States of Cen tral America on trie other. The immediate ef fect of these negociations is to free our soil, down to the Isthmus of Panama, of every trace of European influence—and control. Bat the ul timate effects no political prophet can foresee or predict. At no distant day,—as one of the immediate fruits of these negociaticns, the continent will e crossed by railroads, and a ship canal at one or more of its narrowest points, and an easy communication be thus opened between onr At lantic and Pacific coasts. The young West, and the ancient East will thus be suddenly brought into close proxemity. The arts, sci- ■ ences, energies, religion, of our land be made to bear, with overwhelming force, upon the de cayed and outworn dynasties—the religious and social institutions of that cradleof the human race. Just as it is impossible for light and dark ness to subsist together, so is it for ignorance, despotism, superstition, to maintain their foot ing when brought into contact or contrast with a land where a pure religion prevails—where knowledge is universally diffused, and where life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are not only promised, but secured to every man. We all remember to have heard the voyage to China spoken of as a three years’ voyage. The time that at this moment separates our Western ports in Oregan and California from that ancient empire is not more, by ateara, than twenty or twenty-five days. And who doubts, in this age of scientific progress, and commercial enterprise, that ocean steamers will soon be found traversing the Pacific as they now do the Atlantic—the speedy, the inevita ble result, of which must be the opening of these ancient kingdoms of the world, which have been so long hermetically sealed, and the introduction amongst them of our holy religion, superior knowledge and more advanced civili-' zaiion. I confess that it seems to me one of the grandest and must interesting Speculations that the mind can dwell upon—what is to be the ultimate issue of these vast changes, already consummated or in progress, on our Western or Pacific border, and which will be found to have received so decided an impulse by the conclusion of the treaties just alluded to. What first strikes one in turning his eyes in that direction is the sight of a mixed multitude, hastening with eager steps to those distant re gions, where every stream is imagined to be a Pactolus. But it would be very short-sighted to limit our vision here. One is irresistibly impelled to look further—to enquire what shall be hereafter. The figurative language of scriptures seems about to be realized—that “nations shall be born in a daynay, it has already happened. A nation at this moment exists on the shores of the Pacific—a nation, too, composed of men of extraordinary energies, capacity and intelli gence. They have 1 carried with them to that wild region all the arts and advantages of civ ilized life. The loom, the plough, the nnvil and the sail will quickly be in full requisi tion there. Agriculture and manufactures will soon accomplish their wonders on the laud, whilst the sails of commerce will speedily whi ten those boundless but hitherto comparatively untraversed seas. From island to island and from shore to shore, the social, political and re ligious advantages of more favored lands will continue to spread, till, through all those vast and lovely regions “ whore every prospect pleases, and only man is vile,” the light, the comfort, the blessing of universal education, political liberty,’ pure and undefiled religion, shall every where be diffused “ Westward the course of empiro takes its way, The four first acts already past, A fifth shall close the drama with the day— Time’s noblest offspring is the last.” Is this a mere picture of the fancy ? Or is it the sober anticipation of what is likely to be 7 I love to think of it in the latter aspect—to think that the child is even now born that will live to see these amazing and glorious results substantially consummated. And may we not suppose that among the latest and most gratify ing reflections of -the sage, the soldier, and the patriot, whose death we now deplore, was this— That he had been largely instrumental in con summating measures so fruitful, prospectively, of honor and advantage, not only to his own people, but to the whole family of man? It is not to be disguised or concealed, that our late President is called away at, what seems to usj an inauspicious hour,. The Heavens are overcast; the sky is full of omens : a dark and portentous questions agitates the country, and distracts its councils. It is a period that re quires at the helm of Government one of those clear judgments, that discern, as by intuition, the true posture and peril of affairs—coupled with an integrity of spirit to chose what is right, and firmness of purpose to defend it. And to our weak vision, it did seem that there was no man living so qualified to deal with the grave and frowning questions that distracts and threatens to divide the land, as • our late Presi dent. A slave-holder himself, he could not be without sympathy for the class to which he be longed: Yet so deeply was he persuaded of the evils of the institution, that he never would have consented to force its admission into terri tory already free. He was thus eminently qualified to act as reconciler, between the conflicting parties; because having something in common with’ both, he went all lengths with neither; and so laying a hand on each, could, say—almost with the force of authority—“ Sirs, ye are bretheren.’* But he is gone; and we seem only now to be learning, how necessary he was to us—and how peculiarly suited to the present crisis of affairs. From the extreme opinions, held on each side of the distracting question of slavery, his pru dence and moderation kept him equally aloof. There are those who denounce the institution not only as an evil, but a crime—an iniquity to be punished by the judges ’’ —which no cir cumstances can justiy for a moment—and for which the speediest remedy is the best, or only proper one. His reason—observation—human ity, equally forbade him to adopt this conclusion. Still less, if possible, could he persuade him self, that the remedy for this gigantic evil, was to be found in the dismemberment of the Union. His patriotic soul could imagine no evil, to the country, so great as disunion, —and therefore no exigency, for which disunion could be the rem edy. He saw that our strength—happiness— prosperity as a people, grew from the Union of the States, and that the severance of the bond, would be instantly, or quickly followed, by strife, weakness and ultimate ruin: He was sure, that united, we could defy the world in arms; but he more than feared, that once bro ken up, we should become an easy prey, to for eign diplomacy or invasion—or still worse, that we should instantly turn our arms against each other—and this vast confederacy—planned with a profound and forecasting wisdom—the glory of our own land—the fear—the envy—or the admiration of all others—perish at last, in a do mestic quarrel, and by fraternal blows. This was a spectacle that he could not contemplate without emotion : And the brave man, who had never for a moment, lost his equauimity in the presence of a foe, quailed ut the thought of a dissevered Union—the confusion and conflicts of those elements, whose harmonious action is our strength and hope—the true source of State, independence—individual prosperity—and nat ural grandeur. But he is dead : the dark, portentous ques tion that perplexed and almost paralyzed his ad ministration, survives: and where shall we look for the widom, the moderation and the personal influence that As would have brought to the adjustment of it ? Let us pause in conclusion for a brief survey of his character—the consideration of those qualities which raised him so suddenly to the height of power—and which gave him so re markable a hold on the affections and .confi dence of his countrymen. If we attempt to analyze the character of our. late President, we shall find it remarkable, not so much for a few shining points, as for a kind of Doric strength—a massiveness and solidity, which, however it might not at once arrest at tention, never failed in the end to inspire confi dence, and to make all who approached him feel that here was* a man who might be entire ly trusted. There was in him—and therein lay the se cret of his superiority to most men—a rare combination of the elements, that go to make up the.character of a truly wise, and good and thoroughly useful man. It would be easy to find men, presenting far more shining points of character : nor would it be dificult to find all his excellencies, existing separaately in other mien; but we shall seek long, befortf we meet again, so much wisdom in council, combined with such talent for 'action—such moderation of spirit, with such energy «of will—such a readiness ta yield to others, where no princi ple was at stake, with such an iron firmness in whatever concerned his duty. This probably was the main secret of his popularity, and of the extraordinary hold he bad upon the public confidence and affection.— The persuasion of his honesty, his wisdom, and his conrage, was almost universal; the conviction, deeply and widely spread, that more than almost any other man, he-was fitted to advise in difficult and trying circumstances— and that if a time of real peril should overtake the country, his prudence, his honesty, and his resolution, would be found equal to any emergency. His character was one of extreme clearness and simplicity. There was a transparent hon esty of purpose in him that needed no disguises, and could not be -mistaken. Intrigue, evasion, double-dealing were to his na ture. It is high prfug£t&*?ky, that he could not have succeeded braiem had hetried; still higher, if possible, to off, that-he never made the at tempt. As a military leader, there have been few men more successful, either in ancient or mod ern times. Hopeful and self-relying in spirit, he had the rare faculty of inspiring his soldiers with the courage and confidence that swayed his own bosom. With the instinct of a truly great mind, his spirit rose with -the magnitude of the occasion. Fearing, nothing himself, he impressed his troops 'with the persuasion—a persuasion that seldom fails to realize itself— that wilh him at their head, they were invinci ble. Hence no difficulties djscouraged—no per ils alarmed him ; and agaiijst the most fearful odds, and in the face of apparent insurmounta ble obstacles, he achieved victories that have few parallels in history, i Yet let it be remembered to his praise, that— soldier as he was by profession, and by all the habits of his life, war was his abhorrence ; and contemplating the carnage, misery, 'and crime that always attend it, he was as ready as the most devoted friend of peace, to acknowledge, that nothing but a clear and stern necessity could excuse or justify an appeal to the sword. His position was the highest—the most flat tering that human ambition could aspire to. — He held it, not by force, or fraud, or hereditary title ; but by the unbought suffrages of millions of freemen. But elevation generated no haugh ty or despotic sentiments in his mind. Rank and office wrought no perceptible change in him. His hand grasped the sceptre of authori ty, and he held it firmly, indeed, and as became a ruler : but with no disposition to use it for selfish or tyrannical purposes. Superior to the little vanity that often waits on rank—the dis tance by which grandeur seeks to protect itself from humiliating contacts and approaches, noth ing was more striking in the demeanor of our late President than the entire absence of evefy thing like arrogance, assumption, and display. The modesty of his character was beautifully seen in his discharge of duty. Placed in a po sition of responsibility—civil or military his single aim was to discharge his trust; but with no thought, apparently, that by doing so, he had merited any special commendation: and therefore, whilst the country was echoing with the fame of his military achievements, he gave no indication of a consciousness of having done ought but his duty, or more than any other offi cer in his place would have done as well.— There is something far more impressive in the noble modesty with which he contemplated his most memorable deeds, than in the courage and skill which enabled him to achieve them. I have alluded.to his. love for the Union. It was among the marked features of his charac ter. It was something’more than a sentiment and better than a passion: it was a principle with him. He could not think of his country under any other aspect or condition than as “ one and indivisible.” For its a defence and maintenance there is no hazard he would not have incurred—no sacrifice he would not cheer fully have made : and one of our bitterest re grets at his loss is the remembrance that whilst he lived no parricidal' hand would have been raised, with impunity, againsi the of the Union. At every hazard, he wouldihave maintained the noble sentiment of one of the most distinguished of his predecessors—“ the Union, it must and shall be preserved.” On this sub ject he would admit no trifling, nor permit him self or others to entertain one desponding fear; and when some friends were indulging in his presence in gloomy forebodings as to the stabili ty of the Union, he said, with deep emotioa and with emphatic significancy of language,« I was placed here to support the Constitution : I have sworn to do it: 1 can do it : and I will do it.” But neither fame, nor power, nor the posses sion of a thousand virtues, nor the affection of millions could protect him against the com mon destiny of our race. The time drew nigh for him to die. He had passed through four wars unharmed. He had stood, in safety, in some of the bloodiest battle fields of modern times—where the leaden shower of death fell thickest—where Thompson, and Ringgold, and Watson, and Hardin, and Clay, and other kin dred spirits found an early grave : But his- hour was not yet come j and death, which had so often spared him, almost against hope, found him at last when least apprehended. It was while attending the celebration of our National Independence, and at the foot of Washington’s Monument, that he is supposed to have laid the foundation of the disease which speedily proved fatal to him. Relying upon the strength of a constitution hardened by every kind of exposure, he at first made light of“ the attack. Soon, however, things began to wear a more'serious aspect, and so rapidly that, to those at a distance, there was hardly a per ceptible interval between the first announce ment of his illness, and the dreadful intelli gence that there was no longer hope. The bulletins of his condition, from hour to hour, were waited for, at the door of the Pre sidential mansion, with the intensest anxiety. And when, at one moment, there was some mitigation of his disease, and consequent revi val of hope, bonfires were lighted in the street, and the bells rang joyfully out. But the hope suddenly kindled as suddenly sank. His medi cal adviser saw that his time was come ; and in reply to the question of the venerable suf ferer, how long he might live, answered—“ I hope General many years, but I fear not many hours.’ And so it proved. The closing scene was in keeping with all his previous life. He met death—not in a spir it of bravado—but with the calm fortitude so characteristic of him—not fearing to die, nor yet over-anxiously desiring to live—or if desir ing it, yet for the sake of his friends rather than his own,-and that he might be spared to do the State more service. No doubt there was bitterness in his death. Bitterness in suddenly leaving those whom he loved—bitterness in the dark political aspect of the times—bitterness in the extinction of all his hopes and plans of usefulness for the country so dear to him. And if at such a moment, per sonal considerations conld have found place in bis magnanimous soul, there must have been, to a man like bira, who felt a stam upon his honor more than a wound in his body, intense pain in the knowledge of the effort then making in the Capitol and by.those who were once his friends to couple his name with dishonor ! But whatever of this sort there may have > been, to add poignancy to the sting of death, he found consolation in the reflection so modestly expres sed by him—“ I have endeavored to' do my duty.*’—No man doubts it. His honor now be longs to us: it is one of the jewels of the Na tion : a grateful and a Borrowing people will guard it as a sacred deposit. And so he passed away—dust to its kindred i dust—the spirit to God who gave it. “ The lightnings may flash, and the thander may rattle, He heeds not, he hears not—he’s free from all pain, He sleeps his last sleep, he bu fought his last battle, No sound can awake him to glory again!” We may pause for a moment upon, the les sons and admonitions which this Usad pageant teaches. The Chief Magistrate of the nation is dead the head of a mighty people, whose but yesterday was a tower of strength* now Hies cold, silent and powerless in the grave. Hu man greatness stops at the pit’s month : glory and pomp cannot descend thither: all that is now vanished. It is no longer a thing of life and power, but a breath or phantom—a fading memory—or as a dream when one awaketh. And this is the end of human great ness ! This all that will quickly survive of these, bubbles—power and renown—which am bition so fondly doats upon, so eagerly pursues. The Chief Magistrate of the nation is dead ! and in the first moment of bereavement we are ready to think the loss irreparable ; and so on many accounts it is. But we shall find that the course of human affairs—the destiny and progress of nations, —depend far less on indi viduals than is often supposed, and that even the most distinguished may be taken away, and yet produce only a momentary disturbance in the great tide of events. A higher than any human agency controls the incidents and issues —the arrangement and progress of things— God’s purposes will .be accomplished however human. agencies fail or human expectations perish. To the merely ambitious man it is to the last degree mortifying to see how easily he can be laid aside, and with how little inconvenience his servicescan be dispensed with. Not so to one whose first desire is to do right, and who wishes not so much for the applause and admiration of men, as that when the end is reached he may be able to say, l< I have endeavored to do my duty.” The Chief. Magistrate of the nation is dead ! and all his plans and purposes of usefulness have perished with him. That he would have been able to accomplish all that he proposed is indeed very doubtful; but it was something to have at our head a man whose wisdom was equal to the exigency, and whose counsel, if followed, would have carried the nation through the crisis without sacrificing the rights or the honor of any portion of it. But he is gone : “ His days are past; his purposes are broken off; even the thoughts of his heart. If we inquire why he is taken, will it be presumptuous to answer that it is in judgment? National sins are visited upon the nation.— Nor can any affletion carry in it clearer marks of a Providential visitation than the sudden re moval of the Chief Ruler. The Government of a great people is a matter of such vast and va- - ried importance, yet of so delicate and precari ous a nature, that any material and sudden change in it cannot be without hazard. In no Government in the world, probably, but our own, could the reigns of sovereign power have been transferred so suddenly as they have late ly been in this, and with so little disturb- lt should teach us indeed more than ever to admire and love the wise frame-work of our civil institutions, to see that they can carry us unharmed through so very perilous an ordeal: But it is none the less to be regarded as a “ God distribateth sor rows in his anger.” Let it teach us humility ; let it lead us to repentance; let.us be reminded by it that not only for the inheritance of a free government, but also for its continuance and stability we are wholly indebted to that merci ful Providence which alone controls the desti nies of nations, inspires rulers with wisdom, and restrains the madness of the people. Standing then in the presence of a bereave ment so sudden that all are astounded—so bit ter that the hearts of millions are distressed by it, let us learn our real littleness, and tu-re member where our allegiance is due, and where to put our trust. Let it teach us to look up to that high Providence which controls all things— which sweeps on steadily in its magnificent Üburse, —furthering human schemes and hopes, when they concur with it, but casting them all aside, or whelming them out of sight when they cross or run counter to it. “ God’s coun cils they shall stand, and He will do all his pleasure.” That high destinies await this land—that Providence has great things in store for us, who can doubt ? “ Coming events cast their shadows before.”- If map does not mar what God intends, ours will be a future, glorious and happy, beyond ail that history records or poets have imagined. “ Here every man shall eat in safety, Under his oWn vine, what he plants, and sing' The merry songs of peace to all his neighbors.— —Wherever tho bright sun of Heaven shall shine, Our honor and the greatness of our name Shall be and make new nations: We shall flourish, And, like a mountain cedar, reach our branches To all the plains about us : Our children’s children Shall see this and bless Heaven.” That such might be the glorious future of the country that he had served so faithfully and so long, was, I doubt not, the wish that lay near est to the heart of him who has left us. Our con solation in bis departure must be that however individuals may be removed—and with them many plans and views and hopes be crossed or overthrown—yet that under the guidance of a merciful Providence, the country itself will continue uninterruptedly to pursue its triumph ant march of national grandeur and happiness. And whatever difference of opinion there may be among us as to the policy of our late President, in this prayer I am sure we can all unite—that his mantle may descend with his office, and that those who may hereafter be called to guide the mighty destinies of this land, may be qualified for that great station by a aoul as firm—by a pairiotism as broad and earnest —by a life as blameless, and a heart as pure as kisy whose memory we are this day assembled to honor.. Who Wants a Neat FttT BOOTf AND SHOES. THE undersigned thankful for past favors,— respectfully informs his friends, and theVII public generally, that he is still to be found* at his old stand in North Queen street, directly op posite Kaufman’s Black Horse Hotel, where be has on hand a fine assortment of BOOTS AND SHOES, for Ladies’ and gentlemen’s wear, and is prepared to make to order, at all times .and at the shortest notice, any description of the fashionable Boots and Shoes now worn, and at prices which cannot fail to please. Give him a call. CHRISTIAN STIFFLE. N. B. Mending done in the neatest manner, and at the shortest notice. [june 4-18-6 m Important Information. THE subscribers have just opened a very exten sive assortment of NEW GOODS, suitable to spring trade, which they intend selling off at low prices. Their stock comprises a much greater variety of goods than any other in this county,'and they feel confident in assuring customers that they can be supplied with any article in their line of trade, on the most favorable terms. They have al ways in store a full assortment of STAPLE & FANCY DRY GOODS. CLOTHING. CARPETING, LOOKING GLASSES, FLOOR AND TABLE OIL CLOTHS, Hueensware, Paper Hangings, Groceries & Lamps. They have just opened a great variety o f Lawns, Bereges, Berege Betaines and White Goods adapted to Ladies wear, which will be sold cheap by T. & H. BAUMGARDNER, Walnut Corner, Centre Square and North Queen street, Lancaster. [april 30-t£l4 FIRE! FIRE! A RIVER SET ON FIRE AT LAST! WONDERS WILL NEVER CEASE! IT would require til the praetae and gas pipes in the city to declare to the public the quantities and styles of Goods now opening at the Farmers’ and Mechanics’ Store, and at such low rates as to defy all competition. We always had the reputation of selling our gooda cheap, but now we are prepared to sell them cheaper than ever, for cash or for produce. We respectfully invite the public to call and judge for themselves. c. BEATES, , Formerly Hestetter & Beates, E. King st., Lan’r. may 7 i4-6t PROFESSIONAL CARDS. REMOVAL. JOHN M. AMWEG, Attorney at Law, HAS removed his office to the South West Corner of Centre Square,.next door to G. H. fiomberger, and two doors west of the Lancaster Bank. [July 30-26-tf '•‘Howßeautiful!” “How Life-like!” “ HOW DELICATE AND FINE !” SUCH are a few of the expressions of the scores of visitors who daily throng to JOHNSTON’S DAGUERREOTYPE ROOMS, to procure one of his elegant Likenesses—which, for beauty of shading, depth of tone, and elegance of finish, are unequalled by any pictures overtaken in Lancaster, and unsurpassed by those taken by the best artists in the larger cities. Groups of any number of persons neatly arranged and taken on one plate. Miniatures set in Lockets, Breast Pins, Rings, &c., no matter how small. A beautiful assortment of Rosewood Frames and Papier Mache Book Cases, constantly on hand.— Satisfaction in every instance, and pictures warran ted not to fade. Johnston’s Daguerreotype Rooms, are in Kramph’s Building, corner of North Queen Orance Btreets. July 23 26-tf DR. F. MILLER, Homoepathie Physieian, Surgeon k Accoucheur, HAS removed his office from Kramph’s 6uilding, to the second story of Junoebich’s Building, North Queen street, opposite Vankanaft’s Franklin House Hotel. [April 16, 1860-12-tf Dentistry. MESSRS. REID & CARMAN, Dentists,-re spectfully inform their friends and citizens of the city and county of Lancaster, that they have re.move'd their office to No. 8, North Queen street, over J. F. Lung’s Drug Store, where they can be found at all times prepared to perform all operations upon the teeth. Artificial teeth from one to a full set in serted on the most improved principle. Pivot teeth inserted, cleansing, filing and extracting performed with care, and all- operations pertaining to the den tal art, executed in the most skilful manner, and on the most moderate terms. April 9 ’5O-ly-lO] REID & CARMAN. SURGEON ■» EUkrarianr, OFFICE —In Kramph’a Building, NORTHEAST CORNER OF Orange and North queen Streets, LANCASTER, PA. Lancaster, July 3, 1849. CHESJVUT STREET HOUSE. SAMUEL MILLER, NO, 121 CHESNUT St., Between 3d &,-4t kvsts,, PHILADELPHIA. BOARDING $l,OO per day. [may 14, 1850-ly-16 . 1 GEO. W. McELROY, ATTORNEY AT LAW, HAS removed his office next door to the Intel ligencer Office, Market Square, in the room with Hiram B. Swarr, Esq Lancaster, April 2, 18§0. WILLIAM S. AMWEG, Attorney at Lair, OFFERS his professional sorvices to the public. He also attends to the collection of Pensions, and the prosecution of all manner of claims against the general government. His residence in the city of Washington for several years, the experience derived from the duties of the office, which he had filled during that time, and the mode in which claims of this sort are most speedily adjusted, give the most ample assurance that business placed in his hands will be attended to in such manner as can not fail to afford satisfaction. , Office in South Queen street, second house below the Lancaster Bank. Nov. 20, 1849. irw-~rrnmm«w ■ ■_ Opposite Vankanan's (formerly Schofield's) Hotel , North Queen St,, Lancaster, Pa. I heartily recommend to the people of Lancaster, all others to whom this may come, Dr. Waylan, Grndute of the Baltimore College ofDental Surgery, as a-gentleman eminently qualified to practice his profession in a skillful and scientific manner, and of moral character that entitles him to aliconfidence. I do also certify, that Dr. Waylan did obtain, as the award of of Dr. Pannly of New York, Dr. Roper of Philadelphia, and Dr. Noyes of Baltimore, a Case of Instruments, offered by the College as a prize for the greatest proficiency in the study and art of Dentistry as taught in the Institution. I do also certify that Dr. Waylan has operated upon my mouth in a highly satisfactory manner. ThoB. E. Bond, Jr., A. M., M. D. Professor of Special Pathology and Therapeutics in the Baltimore College of Dental Surgery. • Lancaster, Dec. 11, ’49. 46*tf Dr. flj. m. Dloore & Son, DENTISTS, RESPECTFULLY announce to their friends and the public generally, that they still continue to practise Dentistry in all its various branches. ARTIFICIAL TEETH inserted , Jwpon Pivot, Plate or Atmospheric Pressure, from a single tooth to full set; carious and decayed teeth rendered sound and healthy by filling, and teeth extracted with one-half the pain generally experi enced. Charges in all eases moderate. 83" Office in North Queen street, half a square from the Court House, and adjoining Col. George Mayer’s Hardware Store, and nearly opposite Kauffman’s Hotel. [april 30 ’5O-tf-14 »R. J. MeCALLi, DENTIST, Graduate of the Baltimore College of Dental Surgery (Fohmehly of No. 100, Sooth 6th St., Phh’a,) WOULD respectfully announce to the public, that having permanently located in Lancrater tor the practice of his profession, ho is to be found directly over Messrs. Sprecher & Rohrer’s Hard ware Store, East King street, fourth door from the Court House. (Feb. 19, ’5O-4-ly' MARTIN M. KOHRER, SURVEYOR & CONVEYANCER, OFFICE, Opposite Sprecher 3 s Hotel , East King Street, LANCASTER, PA . SCRIVENING, As writing Deeds, Wills, Mortgages, Releases, Accounts, &c. on and the shortest notice.** march 16, ’5O. t 6m-8 Geo. W. Hunter, ATTORNEY AT LAW. OFFICE— North Duke street, one door above Widmyer’s Cabinet Warerooms, in the office recently occupied by John F. Shroder, Esq. All kinds of Conveyancing, writing Wills, Deeds» Mortgages, Accounts, &c., will be attended to with correctness and despatch. April 12, ’6O Landis & black, ATTORNIES AT LAW: Office— Three doors' below the Lancaster Bank, South Queen Street, Lancaster, Penn’a. OCT All kinds ol 3crivening, such as writing Wills, Deeds, Mortgages, Accounts, &c., will be attended to with correctness and despatch. January 16, 1849 51 JACOB L. GROSS, Attorney at Xaw, Office, Centre Square, EPHRATA—oppoiite Groee’ Hotel, WHERE he will attend to the practice of his profession in all its various branches. Also Surveying—and all kinds of Conveyancing, writing Deeds, Wills, Mortgages, stating Adminis trators and Executors’ Accounts, &c., with accu racy and despatch. [April 23, ’5O-13-ly NO. »
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers