THE SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER: DEVOTED TO EVERY DEPARTMENT OF LITERATURE AND THE FINE ARTS. Au gré de nos desirs bien plus qu'au gré des vents. _Crebillon's Electre_. As _we_ will, and not as the winds will. RICHMOND: T. W. WHITE, PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR. 1835-6. {461} SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER. VOL. II. RICHMOND, JULY, 1836. NO. VIII. T. W. WHITE, PROPRIETOR. FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. MSS. OF JOHN RANDOLPH. [We have obtained, after much difficulty, from a personal friend of the late JOHN RANDOLPH of Roanoke, the MSS. of the annexed _Letters_, and are permitted to publish them in the Messenger. We know our readers will receive them with interest. They throw much novel light on the character of a man whose genius, however great, has been mostly an enigma, and show his views on the most interesting of subjects in the maturity of his life and in the zenith of his reputation.] LETTER I. As well as very bad implements and worse eyes will permit me to do it by candlelight, I will endeavor to make some return to your kind letter, which I received, not by Quashee, but the mail. I also got a short note by him, for which I thank you. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * And now, my dear friend, one word in your ear—in the porches of thine ear. With Archimedes I may cry Ἑυρηκα. Why, what have you found—the philosopher's stone? No—something better than that. Gyges' ring? No. A substitute for bank paper? No. The elixir vitæ then? It is; but it is the elixir of eternal life. It is that peace of God which passeth all understanding, and which is no more to be conceived of by the natural heart, than poor St. George[1] can be made to feel and taste the difference between the Italian and German music. It is a miracle, of which the person upon whom it is wrought alone is conscious—as he is conscious of any other feeling—e.g. whether the friendship he professes for A or B be a real sentiment of his heart, or simulated to serve a turn. [Footnote 1: His nephew, who is deaf and dumb.]