the midst of the chosen few who are perpetual guardians of the interest and of the honour [slavery?] of the nation. The foundations of his fame are laid deep and imperishable, and the superstructure is already erected. It only remains that the mild light of the evening of life be shed around it." The cheering at the close of Mr. Clay's speech merged into an awful tempest of barking. I could compare it to nothing else,--500 men barking with all their might! I thought it was all up with the meeting--that all was lost in incurable confusion; and yet the gentlemen on the platform looked down upon the raging tempest below with calmness and composure, as a thing of course. Amidst the noise I saw a middle-aged gentleman, rising on the platform, deliberately take off his top-coat, and all was hushed--except at the outskirts of the assembly, where a great trade in talking and tobacco was constantly carried on. This gentleman's name was S.S. Prentiss, Esq.; and the barking, it was now evident, consisted of calling out Prentiss! --Prentiss!--Prentiss! with all their might, on the top of the voice, and with an accent, sharp and rising, on the first syllable. This gentleman gave us to understand that he was a lawyer--that he had often appeared before his fellow-citizens on former occasions (those occasions he briefly enumerated); but that the present was the most painful of all. He expatiated largely, and with great vehemence of tone and action, on the miseries of famine as experienced in Ireland,--talked much of their own glorious and free country--("Looking out for a few niggers this morning?" occurred to me),--and made some severe reflections--not, I admit, altogether undeserved--on the Government of England. This man was fluent, though turgid. He seemed resolved to _act_ the orator throughout, and certainly to me appeared in point of talent far--far a-head of Henry Clay. Bravos and hoohoos in abundance greeted Mr. Prentiss. He spoke long; but the noise of the suburbs prevented my hearing so perfectly as I wished. The cheering at the close of this speech merged into barking as before. In this instance it was Hunt!--Hunt!--Hunt! that they called for. The president (standing) showed them a sheet of paper, containing probably a list of subscriptions, and smiled coaxingly to intimate that he wished that to be read. But it would not do. Hunt!--Hunt!--Hunt! was still the cry; and the democracy, as before, carried the day.