Early on the morning of the 23d December, while active preparations for the expected banquet were going on, and many bright eyes and gay hearts were already, in anticipation, beginning the pleasures of the day, the afflicting news reached the city, of the President’s unlooked-for and terrible bereavement. This sad paragraph appeared in the papers and cast a gloom over the breakfast-tables where so many had assembled in joy. “In the midst of preparations for festivity and mirth, the knell of death is heard, and on the very day which it was arranged and expected that our town should be a scene of general rejoicing, we are suddenly checked in our career, and are called on to array ourselves in garments of solemnity and woe. Mrs. Rachel Jackson, wife of General Andrew Jackson, President-elect of the United States, died last night, at the Hermitage, in this vicinity. The intelligence of this awful and unlooked-for event has created a shock in our community almost unparalleled. It was known, a few days since, that Mrs. Jackson was violently attacked by disease; which, however, was supposed to have been checked, so as to afford a prospect of immediate restoration to health. This day, being the anniversary of an interesting and important event in the last war, was appropriately selected to testify the respect and affection of his fellow-citizens and neighbors to the man who was so soon to leave his sweet domestic retirement, to assume the responsibilities and discharge the important duties of Chief Magistrate of the nation. The preparations were already made; the table was well-nigh spread, at which all was expected to be hilarity and joy, and our citizens had sallied forth on the happy morning with spirits light and buoyant, and countenances glowing with animation and hope,—when suddenly the scene is changed, congratulations are converted into expressions of condolence, tears are substituted for smiles, and sincere and general mourning pervades a community where, but a moment before, universal happiness and public rejoicing prevailed. But we have neither time nor room, at present, to indulge in further reflections on this melancholy occurrence. Let us submit with resignation and fortitude to the decrees, however afflicting, of a just and merciful, though mysterious and inscrutable Providence.” The preparations making for the festivity were immediately stopped, upon the arrival of the melancholy information; and, in their stead, the committee of arrangements, together with the Mayor and Aldermen of the city, recommended to the citizens, as an evidence of their deep regret and sympathy for the calamity which had befallen their honored fellow-citizen, to suspend for one day the ordinary business of life, which was cordially observed. In the course of the morning, a card eight inches long and six inches wide, with a mourning border one-third of an inch in width, was printed, containing the following announcement: