gent, Demosthenic in simplicity and force, not a word
misplaced, not a word too many, and fraught with that strange power over
the feelings, lent by sadness and despondency, a state of mind, I think,
most favorable to real eloquence, in which all verbiage is eschewed,
and the burden [64] upon the heart is too heavy to allow the speaker to
think of himself.

Mr. Whipple was in the opposition, and his main charge against Van Buren
especially, was, that it was he who had introduced into our politics the
fatal principle of "the spoils to the victors," a principle which, as
the orator maintained, with prophetic sagacity, threatened ruin to the
Republic. Still there was no extravagance in his way of bringing the
charge. I remember his saying, "Does Mr. Van Buren, then, wish for the
ruin of his country? No; Caesar never wished for the glory of Rome more
than when he desired her to be laid, as a bound victim, at his feet."

We have learned since more than we knew then of the direful influence of
that party cry, "The spoils to the victors." It has made our elections
scrambles for office, and our parties "rings." Mr. Whipple portrayed
the consequences which we are now feeling, and powerfully urged that his
State, small though it was, should do its utmost to ward them off. As
he went on, and carried us higher and higher, I began to consider how he
was to let us down. But the skilful orator is apt to have some clinching
instance or anecdote in reserve, and Mr. Whipple's close was this:

"There sleep now, within the sound of my voice, the bones of a man who
once stood up in the revolutionary battles for his country. In one of
them, he told me, [65] when the little American army, ill armed, ill
clad, and with bleeding feet, was drawn up in front of the disciplined
troops of England, General Washington passed along our lines, and when
he came before us, he stopped, and said, 'I place great confidence in
this Rhode Island regiment.' And when I heard that," said he, "I clasped
my musket to my breast, and said, Damn 'em; let 'em come!" "The immortal
Chieftain" [said the orator] "is looking down upon us now; and he says,
'I place great confidence in this Rhode Island regiment.'"

And now, on the whole, what shall I say of my life in New Bedford?
It was, in the main, very happy. I thought I was doing good there;
I certainly was thoroughly interested in what I was doing. I found
cultivated and interesting society there. I made friends, wh