l," he would
exclaim, "but the spendthrift is more selfish than they." But his very
honesty was most curiously blended with his toryism. One of his
friends relates the following anecdote:--

"Just before we sailed, the Washington papers were received,
announcing the defeat of the Bankrupt Bill by a small
majority. At that moment, I forgot that Randolph had been
one of its most determined opponents, and I spoke with the
feelings of a merchant when I said to him,--

"'Have you heard the very bad news from Washington this
morning?'

"'No, sir,' replied he, with eagerness; 'what is it?'

"'Why, sir, I am sorry to tell you that the House of
Representatives has thrown out the Bankrupt Bill by a small
majority.'

"'Sorry, sir!' exclaimed he; and then, taking off his hat
and looking upwards, he added, most emphatically, 'Thank God
for all his mercies!'

"After a short pause he continued: 'How delighted I am to
think that I helped to give that hateful bill a kick. Yes,
sir, this very day week I spoke for three hours against it,
and my friends, who forced me to make the effort, were good
enough to say that I never had made a more successful
speech; it must have had _some_ merit, sir; for I assure
you, whilst I was speaking, although the Northern mail was
announced, not a single member left his seat to look for
letters,--a circumstance which had not occurred before
during the session!'

"I endeavored to combat his objections to a Bankrupt Bill
subsequently, but, of course, without any success: _he felt
as a planter, and was very jealous of the influence of
merchants as legislators_."

There are flashes of sense and touches of pathos in some of his most
tory passages. As he was delivering in the House one of his emphatic
predictions of the certain failure of our experiment of freedom on
this continent, he broke into an apology for so doing, that brought
tears to many eyes. "It is an infirmity of my nature," said he,

"to have an obstinate constitutional preference of the true
over the agreeable; and I am satisfied, that, if I had had
an only son, or what is dearer, an only daughter,--which God
forbid!--I say, God forbid, for she might bring her father's
gray hairs with sorrow to the grave; she might break my
heart, or worse than that--what? Can anythi