for the courteously stern manner in which he governed and guided its deliberations. He combined, in a preëminent degree, the _suaviter in modo_ with the _fortiter in re_. There was an indescribable something in his look, gesture, and tone of voice, added to his dignity and self-possession, that always restrained and conciliated the turbulent and inimical, and bound to him, with the silken ligaments of love, the peaceable and friendly. At no period of our political history, were subjects so momentous and dangerous in their nature, and so difficult to adjust, brought before congress, as during that of which we are speaking. The political heavens had never been so black, nor the political ocean heaved his surges so high, before, and had not _he_ been there to spread the bow of serenity upon the one, and calm the wild fury of the other, it is hardly too much to say, that our liberties, our institutions, and our every thing nationally valuable, would have been swept by the besom of their rage into the tomb of chaos, if not into oblivion. But _he was there_, ruling, tempering, guiding, and blessing. He seemed to act as though he were conscious that his country stood at his side, with her piercing eyes fixed full upon him, reading the secrets of his heart,――as though he heard her voice sounding in his ears, imploring and beseeching him to guard and watch over, faithfully, those interests which she had so unreservedly placed in his hands, and whenever he lifted his arm, or opened his mouth, it seemed to be for the single purpose of executing her _revealed will_. No wonder that in view of such unparalleled patriotism and disinterestedness, applause should be extorted from the mouth of enmity itself. No wonder that it should be heard saying, ‘_Mr. Clay accomplished what no other man could have performed_.’ Many incidents occurred during his speakership, highly illustrative of his playfulness, wit, and readiness, of which the following may serve as a specimen. On one occasion, the late general Alexander Smyth, of Virginia, a gentleman of unusual ability and erudition, had been speaking a long time, fatiguing and vexing the house with the length and number of his quotations, and citations of authorities, and justified his unbearable prolixity by saying to Mr. Clay, who was seated near him, ‘_you_, sir, speak for the present generation, but _I_ speak for posterity.’ ‘Yes,’ he immediately replied, ‘and you seem resolved to speak until the arrival of _your_ audience!’