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me in a steel engraving, from a photograph) like the best of the antique medallions, he was, with all his vanity, most cultivated and captivating. He had seen much of society and of men. In his youth a soldier and a lady's man, he had read a great deal, and remembered what he read. Born in Virginia, his grandfather was a Scotchman of the clan Buccleugh, who fled across the Atlantic "with a small purse" of borrowed money, and “a good stock of Latin, Greek, and Scotch jurisprudence." His father died a captain in the Revolutionary army when Winfield was six years old. He was well educated, and especially in the classics; was a law student at nineteen, and, soon after he was admitted, was present at the trial of Aaron Burr in 1807, for high-treason, at Richmond, Virginia. The young lawyer met or saw there Andrew Jackson, a witness; Washington Irving; Luther Martin, the great lawyer that defended Aaron Burr; William Wirt; Commodore Truxtun; John Randolph, foreman, and Littleton W. Tazewell, member, of the Grand Jury; John Taylor, of Caroline; and John Marshall, Chief-justice of the United States. Jefferson, the President, earnestly pushed the prosecution; but Marshall ruled on the other side, and Burr escaped. "He was," says Scott in his autobiography, "the great central figure below the bench. There he stood, in the hands of power, on the brink of danger, as composed, as immovable, as one of Canova's living marbles." After this, Scott practised law at Charleston, South Carolina, and there met William Lowndes, Langdon Cheves, and William Drayton. John C. Calhoun had not yet appeared on the public stage. Shortly after, eager to be a soldier, he visited President Jefferson at Washington. There were three great talkers present-Dr. Mitchell, of New York, and W. B. Giles and Dr. Walter Jones, of Virginia-who silenced Jefferson and the young lawyer. Suddenly, in a pause in the conversation, Jefferson said, "I have just thought of an object to which to compare the House of Representatives: it is like the chimneys to our dwellings; it carries off the smoke

His voice was low,

of party, which might otherwise stifle the nation." Commissioned at last as a captain of light or flying artillery, May 3, 1808, he began the career which has made him illustrious. The last time I saw him was just before the battle of Bull Run, in 1861, at his private quarters on Pennsylvania Avenue, near the War Department, in his seventy-sixth year. He was very stout and feeble, but, as usual, polite and stately. and, I thought, affected; but his heart was full of love for his country. He was not an extremist; few were so then. .He was hurt by Robert E. Lee's defection, and he clung to the regulars as the strong right arm of the Government. As I sat at his side, and received a glass of champagne from his own. hands, I silently read the story of his wonderful military life. A prisoner, after his gallantry at Queenstown, in 1812; afterwards exchanged; his exploit at Fort George; his victory over the British at Fort Erie, July 3, 1814; next day (July 4) his advance upon Chippewa; and on the 5th defeating and routing the confident foe; followed by Lundy's Lane, or Bridgewater, twenty days after, in which he lost two horses, killed under him. Before his wounds were healed, and even while Jackson was whipping the British at New Orleans (January 8, 1815), peace was concluded. He next visited Europe, reaching there after the battle of Waterloo, an object of great distinction. His standard work, "General Regulations," was written in 1825. His courage and wisdom in the Indian War, in the Nullification crisis, and in the Canadian rebellion proved the diplomatist and the soldier. And then the drama of the Mexican war, gallantly conducted and magnificently closed; his canvass for President; his elevation to the Lieutenant-generalship by a Democratic Congress; his invaluable services in securing the safe inauguration of Lincoln-all these scenes, including his disputes with General Jackson and the accomplished N. P. Trist (now living in Philadelphia), his numerous letters on politics-all of them passed before me as I studied his splendid

features and listened to his views on the war. He sailed for Europe November 9, 1861, to recover his broken health, sent abroad on full pay and allowances by a special act of Congress; and July 5, 1863, in his seventy-seventh year, published his curious autobiography, abounding in his eccentricities, yet very pleasant reading. He died at West Point in 1864.

But of all the old men I have known, Henry C. Carey lived most heartily and happily in congenial work. Down to within a few days of his death, on the 13th of October, 1879, in his eighty-seventh year, he was the hospitable host, the busy writer, the rapid talker, the omnivorous reader, and always without glasses; and he would walk into my little den with the quick step, bright eye, and cheery voice of a man of forty. He was fortunate in having for his eulogist his contemporary and friend, Dr. William Elder, of Washington, D. C., whose tribute at our historical society was a consummate production.

I have just condensed some of the leading events in the life of Winfield Scott, the soldier. That of Henry C. Carey, the thinker, was longer and equally eventful. The son of Mathew Carey, an Irish patriot, who was for more than a quarter of a century one of the ablest Democratic editors during the administrations of Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, he succeeded his father in his extensive publishing business in 1821, and continued a pursuit so congenial to his tastes until 1838, when he began to devote himself to political economy, and from that to the day of his death his labors have been more steady and continuous than the labor of the soldier, and his works as valuable in their effect upon the mind of man. combat and overthrow erroneous ideas is like conquering an empire; to elevate and liberate the mind is better than to im prove and liberate the body.

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To

XIV.

SOME NEW ENGLAND CHARACTERS.

TRIBUTE OF JAMES M.

MASON AND JEFFERSON DAVIS TO MASSACHUSETTS. "MR. PRESIDENT,-I have seen a great people and a great State; a people without paupers and a State without debt; a people getting rich on a rocky soil; a State with free schools and free turnpikes; a State of colleges and churches; a State where the poor man is the equal of the rich one if he is intelligent and worthy, and where the Irish hackman is as polite as he is rude in New York." Such was substantially the tribute of James M. Mason, of Virginia, while he was a Senator in Congress twenty-one years ago. Many remember the high encomiums of Jefferson Davis upon New England while he was Secretary of War under Franklin Pierce in 1854, during a short stay at Portland, Maine.

In 1869 I was in Georgia, and met an old friend, whose accomplished daughter had just returned from Boston. He said, "You would be surprised to see the change in her by her intercourse with the intelligent people of that tolerant and refined city. She has ceased talking about the Lost Cause, and comes back much enlightened and improved, precisely as if she had seen a superior new world.”

Several weeks ago, a Philadelphia merchant met a Maryland gentleman on one of the North River boats on his way to New York, after a brief sojourn in Massachusetts. "Tell me," said the Marylander, "how is it that this people contrive to live so prosperously on a barren soil? I have seen small farms that seem to be nothing but rocks and sand producing more of real wealth than my plantation in Frederick County, Maryland, and everybody everywhere is comfortable and happy. What is the secret?" "I can only give you my experience," said the Philadelphian. "I have just bought a machine for grinding bark

for three thousand dollars less than I would have had to pay for it at home. The iron was brought from Pennsylvania, but the labor and the ingenuity were found in Massachusetts. These people have a gift for invention, and live cheaper because they are temperate and saving. I took rail and travelled some distance from Boston to see the manufacturer of the machine I wanted to buy. He lived about three miles from the country station. When I got there, I asked for a hack and a driver. The bargain was made for a dollar and a half. Imagine my surprise when a lovely girl appeared driving the conveyance. Without noticing my astonishment, she quietly invited me to take a seat. I found her bright and communicative. In reply to my remark at seeing her in such a position, 'Oh, that is all right,' she said; 'this is our vacation. Father owns several of these hacks, and when he is busy I help him. We have a large college here, founded by a very rich gentleman, for the education of young people. We pay six dollars a year, and learn everything. There are several hundred young men and women scholars, and I am one. When we graduate, we generally go West or South to earn a living-the boys as farmers, mechanics, or lawyers; the girls as clerks or teachers. Some of us get married at home, or in the other States, and we get through life very well.' All this as coolly as if she were a princess relating the story of her wealth and power. We got to the factory, and in five minutes I bought my machine, dined with the manufacturer and his family-a good, clean, wholesome meal-and was back in Boston in time to take the next train for the North River boat." The Marylander quietly remarked, "I do not wonder we lost in the war. I only wonder we ever got into it against such a people."

One of the gentlemen connected with The Press visited Niagara one summer with his family, and while there hired a carriage that he might get to the favorite places near the Falls. The young coachman was so intelligent that he ventured to

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