Though Mr. Clay’s enemies were greatly gratified at his ejectment from office, they were more disappointed and chagrined at the fortitude, and humor, even, with which he bore it. They had prepared a rich feast of enjoyment over his anticipated sorrow, on the occurrence of that event, which was spoiled by him, in not complying with the conditions that _would make it palatable_. Instead of being sad, he was merry. At the time of his departure from Washington for Kentucky, the roads were very bad, which induced him to send his private conveyance in advance, and resort to the stage-coach. On one occasion, the roughness of them caused him to take a seat beside the driver, which he occupied on entering Uniontown, in Pennsylvania, at which his friends in that place expressed great surprise, to which he replied, ‘gentlemen, although I am with the OUTS, yet I can assure you that the INS behind me, have much the worst of it.’ His health, which had become much enfeebled by his arduous duties, improved rapidly during his journey home, and the flow of his exuberant spirits more than kept pace with it. The most kindly receptions greeted him at every stage of it; indeed, in the expressions of regard for his character and services, there was scarcely any cessation, from the time he left the seat of government until he reached his home, to which he was welcomed by one of those warm, spontaneous, and eloquent outbursts of Kentuckian feeling, which, to be known, must be witnessed, for no description can do it justice. Hardly had he disrobed himself of his travelling garments, and become seated in his residence at Ashland, before he was importuned to exchange it for one in congress, or in the legislature of Kentucky; but ill health, and a desire for temporal repose, caused him to decline. Scarcely a day passed away which did not bring to his abode testimonials of regard and affection, from his friends in all parts of the country. He was urged repeatedly to participate in their hospitality, which had he complied with to the extent in which it was proffered, the strength of a thousand men would have been requisite to carry him uninjured through it. These invitations were prompted by a consciousness of his worth, and a desire to gather his opinions and sentiments, in relation to national policy. This desire was always gratified, at those which he accepted. In May, 1829, he was honored by a public dinner, served up at Fowler’s garden, at which about three thousand sat down. His presence called forth the following toast: ‘our distinguished guest, friend, and neighbor, HENRY CLAY――with increased proofs of his worth, we delight to renew the assurance of our confidence in his patriotism, talents, and incorruptibility――may health and happiness attend him in retirement, and a grateful nation do justice to his virtues.’ After its announcement, he spoke for the space of one hour and a half, with more than his usual eloquence and energy.