Lynchburg Virginian

THE NEXT PRESIDENCY.

Messrs. Editors—

I am much pleased with the new dress of the "Virginian," valuing it, as I ever have, for the sound, straight-forward, republican doctrines which it advocates, and the manner in which it has been conducted. I hope and trust that you will be amply remunerated for the additional trouble and expense you have been at, in refitting your paper.

I am an old subscriber of yours—I have taken the Virginian for thirteen years—have agreed with you in political sentiment nearly the whole of that time and am now resolved to go heart and hand with you, in the election of Judge White, as our next President. This course will be somewhat inconsistent,—still, it is the best we can do on the present occasion. Mr. Clay is, I think, out of the question—I give him up; but not without deep regret. He is my first choice, the world over—the greatest man in the nation—the best republican—the purest patriot—But the people are blind, stone-blind, to his exalted merit. They cannot, or they will not see, or if they see, they will not acknowledge their obligations to him. If they properly appreciated them, they would have long since rewarded this giant Statesman, by elevating him to the Presidency! Mr. Clay aside, and my choice restricted to Van Buren and White, I greatly prefer the latter. I believe Judge White to be an honest man. Differing from him in politics, toto coelo, yet I take him at once,—take him without a moment's hesitation, in preference to a palpable trimmer, such as Martin Van Buren is. I would say, "any body in the world before Van Buren." For he is the main-spring, the life and soul, of all the corruption that has existed in the "government for the last six years. I am glad to see the "Virginian" vindicating, with energy the claims of Judge White. Go on, in the holy cause—Let us put down Van Buren by all means. Paint the gentleman in all his various characters,—paint him black, white, blue and red, as he is. He is every colour, every hue, every shade, that paint can make him. He is green, double green—as black as pitch, in corruption—away with him then.

A TRUE WHIG.