®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
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