saw-pit voters how it has been charged against them that they were only independent once a year, and that was when herrings run up the Santee river.  Such a gross slander Mr. Scranton declares to be the most impious.  They were always independent; and, if they were poor, and preferred to habit themselves in primitive garbs, it was only because they preferred to be honest!  This, Mr. Scranton, the northern philosopher, asserts with great emphasis.  Yes! they are honest; and honest patriots are always better than rich traitors.  From the san-pit men, Mr. Scranton, his face distended with eloquence, turns to his cracker and “wire-grass” friends, upon whom he bestows most piercing compliments.  Their lean mules-the speaker laughs at his own wit-and pioneer waggons always remind him of the good old times, when he was a boy, and everybody was so honest it was unnecessary even to have such useless finery as people put on at the present day.  A word or two, very derogatory of the anti-slavery people, is received with deafening applause.  Of the descendants of the Huguenots he says but little; they are few, rich, and very unpopular in this part of the little sovereign state.  And he quite forgot to tell this unlettered mass of a sovereign constituency the true cause of their poverty and degradation.  Mr. Scranton, however, in one particular point, which is a vital one to the slave-ocracy, differs with the ungovernable Romescos,—­he would not burn all common schools, nor scout all such trash as schoolmasters.

In another part of Mr. Scranton’s speech he enjoins them to be staunch supporters of men known to be firm to the south, and who would blow up every yankee who came south, and refused to declare his sentiments to be for concession.  “You!"-he points round him to the grotesque crowd-"were first to take a stand and keep niggers down; to keep them where they can’t turn round and enslave you!  Great Britain, fell ercitizens,"-Mr. Scranton begins to wax warm; he adjusts his coat sleeves, and draws himself into a tragic attitude as he takes his tobacco from his mouth, seemingly unconscious of his own enthusiasm-I say Great Britain-” A sudden interruption is caused.  Mr. Scranton’s muddled quid, thrown with such violence, has bedaubed the cheek of an admiring saw-pitter, whose mind was completely absorbed in his eloquence.  He was listening with breathless suspense, and only saved its admission in his capacious mouth by closing it a few seconds before.

“Sarved him just right; keep on, Colonel!” exclaims Mr. M’Fadden.  He takes the man by the arm, pushes him aside, and makes a slight bow to Mr. Scranton.  He would have him go on.