exclusively American, to shrink from his duty for the yelping of those blood-hound mongrels who were kept in pay to hunt down all who opposed the court; a pack of mangy hounds of recent importation; their backs still sore with the stripes of European castigation, and their necks marked with the check collar.’ Mr. Clay replied to him in a speech of most pointed yet merited rebuke, and couched in language that stung like a scorpion. During the course of his remarks, Mr. Quincy took occasion to travel out of his way to attack the character of Mr. Jefferson. This uncalled for and unexpected abuse of an aged ex-president, a patriot living in retirement, Mr. Clay thus notices. ‘Neither his retirement from public office, his eminent services, nor his advanced age, can exempt this patriot from the coarse assaults of party malevolence. In 1801, he snatched from the rude hand of usurpation the violated constitution of his country, and _that_ is his crime. He preserved that instrument, in form, and substance, and spirit, a precious inheritance for generations to come, and for _this_, he can never be forgiven. How vain and impotent is party rage directed against such a man! He is not more elevated by his lofty residence on the summit of his own favorite mountain, than he is lifted by the serenity of his mind, and the consciousness of a well-spent life, above the malignant passions and bitter feelings of the day. No! his own beloved Monticello is not less moved by the storms that beat against its sides, than is this illustrious man by the howlings of the whole British pack set loose from the Essex kennel.’