Few men have served more faithfully and more efficiently a people than did George Poindexter the people of Mississippi.  His talents were indisputably of the first order, and, whatever may have been his short comings morally, none can say his political life was stained with selfishness or corruption.  Every trust reposed in him was faithfully and ably discharged, and to him, more than to any of her public servants, is she indebted for the proud position she occupied before the tyrants’ heel was upon her neck.

Few men can rise superior to the crushing effects of domestic infelicity:  man’s hopes, man’s happiness, all centred in her whom he has chosen as the companion of his life.  His love selects, and his love centres in her.  The struggle for fortune, for happiness, for fame, is for her; she shares every success, every misfortune; and when she is kind and affectionate, there he meets with the true manliness of an honest and devoted heart.  She smooths the brow of disappointment and sorrow, rejoices in his success, and, in the fulness of her confidence and affection, aids and encourages his exertions and enterprises.  This reconciles him to life, and life’s cares, troubles, and joys.  His spirit is buoyant, come what may; for there is an angel at home, and there is happiness with her:  she is the mother of his children; she unites with him in love and exertions for the benefit of these.  They are one in these, and with every birth there is a new link to bind and gladden two hearts.  Without the virtuous love of woman, man is a miserable being, worthless to himself and useless to his kind.  But when the heart’s wealth is given to one who has no sympathy with it, and gives only in return coldness and hate; who betrays every confidence and disappoints every hope; who is only happy when he is miserable, and refuses the generous aid a wife owes to his exertions; who rejoices in his failures, and intrigues to produce them, and weeps over his successes with the bitterness of disappointment; who hates her offspring, because they resemble their father; who spurns his caresses, and turns away from his love—­then life’s hopes are blighted, and all is black before.  His energies die out with his hopes; the goading thought is eternally present; he shrinks away from society, and in solitude and obscurity hides him from the world—­which too often condemns him as the architect of all his misery.

“Oh, a true woman is a treasure beyond price, but a false one the basest of counterfeits.”

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE SILVER-TONGUED ORATOR.

JOHN A. QUITMAN—­ROBERT J. WALKER—­ROBERT H. ADAMS—­FROM A COOPER-SHOP TO THE UNITED STATES SENATE—­BANK MONOPOLY—­NATCHEZ FENCIBLES—­SCOTT IN MEXICO—­THOMAS HALL—­SARGENT S. PRENTISS—­VICKSBURG—­SINGLE-SPEECH HAMILTON—­GOD-INSPIRED ORATORY—­DRUNK BY ABSORPTION—­KILLING A TAILOR—­DEFENCE OF WILKINSON.