fashionable to speak of him, I may be charged with a want of taste and
discrimination. That I cannot help. My simple object in these letters
is to tell how Transatlantic men and manners appeared to my eye or ear.
Before I went to America my respect for Henry Clay was very great. I am
sorry to say it is not so now. I have closely examined his conduct in
reference to "the peculiar institution," and find it to have been
that--not of a high-minded statesman and true philanthropist--but of a
trimming, time-serving partisan. He has been a main pillar of slavery;
and as the idol of the Whig party, a great stumbling-block in the way
of those who sought the overthrow of that system. The man of whom I
have thus freely, yet conscientiously expressed myself, is nevertheless
thus spoken of in the _New Englander_, a quarterly review of high
character now open before me:--"We intend to speak in the praise of
Henry Clay. His place among the great men of our country is permanently
fixed. He stands forth prominent above the politicians of the hour, in
the midst of the chosen few who are perpetual guardians of the interest
and of the honour [slavery?] of the nation. The foundations of his fame
are laid deep and imperishable, and the superstructure is already
erected. It only remains that the mild light of the evening of life be
shed around it."

The cheering at the close of Mr. Clay's speech merged into an awful
tempest of barking. I could compare it to nothing else,--500 men
barking with all their might! I thought it was all up with the
meeting--that all was lost in incurable confusion; and yet the
gentlemen on the platform looked down upon the raging tempest below
with calmness and composure, as a thing of course. Amidst the noise I
saw a middle-aged gentleman, rising on the platform, deliberately take
off his top-coat, and all was hushed--except at the outskirts of the
assembly, where a great trade in talking and tobacco was constantly