ancient friends and allies. Could we pocket that blood-stained purse without emotions of pain and remorse ?" Mr. Crittenden hoped and believed that we would be saved from the calamity of war with foreign nations, and would enjoy more harmony in our counsels at home.

(Mr. Crittenden to O. Brown.)

WASHINGTON, March 13, 1836. DEAR ORLANDO,-I have yet to thank you for your letter of the 11th. If I were to rate the obligation by the pleasure it gave me, I do not know how I should ever discharge it. The description you gave of my wife and children, excited by the flattering intelligence of me, which you had furnished to them, was both painting and poetry to the heart of such a man as I am. It was a picture to bring together a smile and a tear upon a husband's and father's face. I am not willing to confess, even if it were possible to communicate, all the feelings it aroused in me.

Permit me to tell you how much I enjoy the sentiment expressed in your letter when you say, "As for myself, I do feel as if I was bound to you and yours as strongly as if there was a tie of blood between us," etc. But I must quit this subject or become altogether too sentimental.

Mangum is all you have described him to be. Through your means we found ourselves well acquainted upon our very first meeting, and have ever since been good friends. We talk often of you, the captivation seems to be mutual. Leigh, too, is a noble fellow; I almost envy him the patriotic eminence of his present position, and never did man meet his fate with more unpretending integrity and fortitude. There is no parade in the course he has taken; not a spark of pretension or ostentation is visible. The conduct he has adopted seems to be the natural result of native truth and virtue.

"There is a daily beauty in his life" which makes these expungers of the Constitution, who are assailing him, look uglier than ever to my sight. I think you will sympathize in all these feelings, and I shall be proud to see in the Commonwealth one of those felicitous articles on the subject which I might show to Leigh. We have a temporary calm just now in our congressional proceedings. The French question has passed by, and the agitation produced by the recharter by Pennsylvania of the Bank of the United States has subsided. The discussions upon the petitions of the Abolitionists have become stale and worn out. Clay's land bill and Benton's fortification bill are, I presume, the next subjects to break the calm.

There are some here who entertain hopes of the passage of the land bill; for my own part, I anticipate nothing so good; party spirit has paralyzed Congress to too great an extent! Van Buren's election to the Presidency is, with many, a much more important object than the public good, and so, too, perhaps, is his defeat with some of his opponents. With respect to the coming controversy, I can tell you nothing more than you already know. Webster is still standing in the field, though he can hardly be considered a competitor. My confidence in him leads me to believe he will do what is right and proper. Harrison's interest in the North is manifesting itself more strongly than was expected, and every day confirms the impression that Pennsylvania will certainly go for him. The oppoments of Van Buren here, from every quarter, are confident that a majority of the people are against him, and that the only chance of his success is in their divided and distracted condition. Why did not our friends in Kentucky nominate Granger when they did Harrison? I see that some of our papers in Lexington have come out for Tyler.

Upon every principle of policy, we should rather gratify Pennsylvania and the Anti-Masons of the North, by taking Granger. I do not like to turn my thoughts to your late actings and doings in Kentucky. The distance has somewhat broken the effect upon me, but still I am grieved in spirit at some events. They denote, I fear, even more than a want of union, a bad spirit has gotten up among you; but let me say no more of things which I cannot mend.

Give my love to your wife; yes, my love. I do feel that I love everybody in Frankfort, and if this is so, I am sure I must love her very dearly.

ORLANDO BROWN.

Your friend,

J. J. CRITTENDEN.

(J. J. Crittenden to his wife Maria.)

SENATE CHAMBER, April 8, 1836.

MY DEAR MARIA,-I write merely for the pleasure of writing to you; it is a sort of mental association that is the best consolation for actual absence. I have nothing to write, unless I should write in the strains of a mere lover, and I suspect you have already had so much occasion to laugh at me for that, so I ought to be a little cautious how I proceed in that melting

mood,

I am quite amused to hear of what you all call Hick's badness. I suspect he is more petted than whipped. Eugenia writes, "Poor Hick is whipped almost every day for cursing," and then adds,

"He is a most charming fellow." I suspect he is a spoiled chap, and that I shall have work enough to reform the young gentleman.

But I must attend to the business of the Senate, so farewell, my dearest Maria.

Mrs. MARIA CRITTENDEN.

Yours,

J. J. CRITTENDEN.

IN

CHAPTER VIII.

1836-1837.

Mr. Webster's Visit to the West-Anecdote told by Mr. Evarts-Letters.

N 1836, Mr. Webster visited the West, and came from Lexington to Frankfort to see Mr. Crittenden. He was his guest for some days at that time, and received from the yeomanry of Franklin County the usual compliment paid to distinguished visitors in that locality, "a barbecue," or, as it was called at that time, "a bergoo." This was regarded as an unusually great occasion, and extensive preparations were made to do honor to Mr. Webster. The men were rallied far and wide, and a mighty gathering was the result. The place honored by custom for this Kentucky festivity was about seven miles from Frankfort, on the farm of Mrs. Innes, the mother of Mrs. Crittenden. A romantic little stream called Elkhorn wound about through the woods near the house, and in the dense forest along its borders the Kentucky host assembled. I cannot explain the origin of the word "bergoo;" the feast differed from a “barbecue,” in that it was more primitive. Immense iron pots were kept on hand in some secluded spot, ready for such occasions, and each man was expected to bring his own tin cup and pewter spoon. "Bergoos" were always the order of the day when summer vegetables abounded; only one dish was prepared, but it was savory as the mess brought by Esau to his father, the blind patriarch. All the birds and squirrels round about were shot, prepared, and thrown indiscriminately into the arge pots; then all the farms and gardens in the neighborhood were put under contribution, and young corn, tomatoes, peas, beans,-in short, every vegetable that could be found, was added. All this boiled away vigorously till the salutations of the day were over, family news told, and kindly questions asked and answered. The business of the day (which was making speeches

and listening to them) concluded, then all present gathered around the steaming pots, cup and spoon in hand, to receive their portion. I don't remember that I ever tasted this famous broth, but it perfumed the woods, and I know that every one "asked for more." There was no distinction of persons on these occasions, except that the orators of the day and the visitors were first served; but a tin cup and a pewter spoon were the only implements. Mr. Webster was accompanied by his wife and daughter Julia, afterwards Mrs. Appleton, and on the great day of the feast we drove out to Mrs. Innis's. After resting at the house, we walked over to the camping-ground. Mr. Webster was received with shouts that almost rent the heavens. He was welcomed in the usual form, and called upon for a speech, which he made in his inimitable style. Mr. Crittenden, knowing his boys of old, feared that he also would be called upon for a speech. Before Mr. Webster concluded, he was seen quietly and stealthily withdrawing to the outskirts of the crowd, and concealing himself at last behind a tree.

One amusing feature of this occasion was seeing Mr. Webster accommodate himself to a stump. This was not the kind of platform he was accustomed to, but he would not have been equally acceptable in any other position. I suppose he had never felt his footing so insecure, but, being a quiet speaker by nature, he got through like a man and a Kentuckian. After the conclusion of Mr. Webster's speech, a great shout arose for "Crittenden! Crittenden! Crittenden !" The crowd swayed backward and forward, the merry laughter of those near his place of concealment betrayed him, and he was literally dragged out and passed over the heads of the people to a tall stump, and put down gently. Such a triumphant shout of victory was rarely heard on any battle-field as arose when this was accomplished. Mr. Crittenden was laughing so heartily that it was some time before he could utter a word. I shall never forget Mr. Webster's expression on that day,—amazement and amusement contended for mastery. Those who were acquainted with Mr. Crittenden have not forgotten the intensely humorous expression of his countenance when hearing or relating a good story. On this occasion his mirth was contagious. He peremptorily declared he would not make a speech, made a comic appeal to "his boys"